


Put On a Happy Face

by FandomFluid



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon Asexual Character, Character Study, Dog Attacks, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Gun Violence, Murder, Psychological Drama, Sexual Violence, jim crow era racism, racial violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomFluid/pseuds/FandomFluid
Summary: Everything was awful, nothing went right, and no one cared. But if he just kept smiling, no one had to know.**Note: I'm not a licensed psychologist, I just do an asinine amount of research into serial killers. Nothing done in this story is condoned at all. **
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

“Now, you better eat all that jambalaya before even thinking about turning the radio on,” Mama said, sternly but gently. 

“Alright, Mama.” The boy chirped. He’d never had trouble cleaning his bowl before, and he wasn’t planning on having any now. He’d finish in record time, and be in front of the radio just like he always was. 

“If you need any help, just tell me. Your Mama doesn’t need to know.” Uncle Antoine said, nudging him with his arm. 

The boy pulled away, his nose wrinkling. He really hated Uncle Antoine. The man had been around for as long as he could remember. Mama had said he needed a father figure after his own father had died from the Yellow Fever shortly after he’d been born. He had no idea what made her think Uncle Antoine would be a suitable substitute. 

There was something about the guy that the boy just hated. Antoine was a clean-cut man. He wore nothing but suits and smoked cigars rather than pipes. He supported the family without trouble. According to Mama, if it hadn’t been for Uncle Antoine helping them out, he’d be working in whatever factory would take him, sitting next to a bunch of other whimpering ten-year-olds. 

He really didn’t care if Uncle Antoine kept him out of the factories and kept jambalaya in his bowl. The man had eyes that he couldn’t describe as anything but ‘greasy’. He didn’t like the way he looked at him or his Mama. Mama always said things would be fine, and told him not to worry so much. 

“Louis, be nice to your uncle.” Mama scolded. 

Louis huffed through his nose, pushed his auburn hair from his forehead, and set to work eating rather than responding. The more shrimp and rice he had in his mouth, the less space he had to apologize. Plus, he knew better than to talk with his mouth full. 

The jambalaya was finished almost as quickly as it had been spooned into his bowl. As soon as it was gone, Louis was up and out of his seat. 

“Merci, Mama,” he said, kissing her cheek quickly before running to the other room. With the turn of a knob, the room was suddenly filled with the sound of trumpets, saxophones, and the life of jazz music. 

Louis danced around the room to the music, only stopping when the song did. He was still smiling when the radio host came on. Even the man’s voice was like music. Everything about the voice radiated happiness. 

“Ladies and Gents, that was our very own Original Creole Orchestra! And you can find more of that wonderful sound at Mardi Gras!” The radio host declared. 

“Oh, Mama! Can I go to Congo Square with Chummy on Mardi Gras?” Louis asked. 

“Absolutely not,” Antoine said. 

“Only if you make sure you’re safe,” Mama said at the same time. 

“He won’t be safe if he keeps hanging around that boy from the Tremé neighborhood,” Antoine said with a frown. 

“Chummy’s just a kid.” Louis pouted. 

“You don’t know how they raise their kids over there. Everything’s kept separate for a good reason you know.” Antoine replied as he puffed his cigar. 

“He’s never had a problem with Chummy before.” Mama tried. “They’re just little boys.” 

“I don’t want him hanging out with those people anymore. What will our neighbors think? I have a reputation, you know.” Antoine said. 

Louis just rolled his eyes and stopped paying attention. Antoine was just jealous because he had no friends. And Chummy was the perfect friend. He and Chummy would go out and enjoy Mardi Gras together, no matter what. They’d dance along to the music together, watch the other people in their masks dance in the streets of New Orleans. Then, when they needed a break, maybe they’d come back to make sandwiches and listen to the radio in the quietness of his home. They’d make the most of their time before Chummy would go to Savannah to spend Easter with his family. And there was nothing stupid Uncle Antoine could do about it. 

When bedtime rolled around, Louis hugged and kissed Mama goodnight like usual. Then he’d say goodnight to Uncle Antoine and go to bed. 

“What, do I not get a hug and kiss, too?” Uncle Antoine said, nursing a scotch. Louis could already smell it on his breath, making him want to gag. 

He frowned at the words and glanced at Mama for any sort of intervention that might save him. Nothing came, and Uncle Antoine was still waiting expectantly. So, he gave in and hugged the man loosely and gave him the quickest peck on the cheek he could muster before scurrying off to bed. 

Tuesday came around and he was still actively trying to avoid his uncle so he wouldn’t need to hear his thoughts on his best friend, but that wouldn’t stop Louis from having a good time. He put on his best button-down shirt, tucked it into his pants, and strapped on his suspenders. He fixed his hair, then his bowtie and pulled on his shoes as someone knocked on the door. 

He ran to answer it before anyone else could, smiling brightly at the sight of his best friend. Chummy was dressed almost exactly the same as he was, with the only difference being his hair and the glasses perched on his nose. Chummy smiled brightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth and Louis couldn’t keep himself from hugging the boy tight. 

“Alright, I gave you some money. Now don’t go making any trouble, alright?” Chummy’s mother said with a soft smile at her boy. 

“I won’t, Mama.” Chummy promised. 

“Good, be home by dinner.” She said. 

Chummy nodded and waved goodbye to her as she turned to leave, still hanging on to Louis with his other arm. 

“Bye, Mrs. Walker!” Louis chirped as he kept his arms around Chummy, their cheeks pressed together. 

“Look what I found!” Chummy said, pulling a folded up sheet of paper out from his back pocket to unfold it and reveal a map of all the music spots for Mardi Gras that year. 

“Wow, that’s perfect! Now we’ll be able to find the best ones!” Louis gushed, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I still think we should check out Congo Square, though. But maybe we can go to the French Quarter, too!” Chummy thought aloud as they peered over the map together. 

“You boys be careful out there, you hear me?” Uncle Antoine piped up from the living room. Louis ignored him. 

“We’ll keep an eye on each other, sir.” Chummy promised. 

“Let’s go, I want to get out of here,” Louis said, grabbing his friend by the hand and tugging him away from the house and down the sidewalk. 

Louis listened quietly as Chummy gushed to him while they walked. The boy told him all about the nice new suit he’d gotten for Easter since he’d outgrown his old one. No new suspenders, though. He wouldn’t outgrow those for a little while.

They got ice cream cones from a vendor when they got to the Congo Square, and sat down together on a bench to watch the revelers and listen to the music. 

“Are you okay? You seem kind of off today.” Chummy asked, leaning over to speak into Louis’s ear so they could hear each other. 

“I’m fine.” Louis lies.

“Louis,” Chummy said with a frown. 

Louis looked over at his friend’s insistent brown eyes and sighed through his nose. He then leaned in again. 

“Uncle Antoine's been making me mad lately,” Louis replied. 

“Did he hit you or something?” Chummy asked with a small frown. 

“No. He didn’t hit me. He didn't really do much of anything There's just something bad about him.” Louis replied with a frown, focusing down on the chocolate ice cream starting to drip down his cone, towards his knuckles. 

“Did you tell your mama yet?” Chummy asked. 

“No, not yet. I don’t know if I will.” Louis replied. 

“What? Why?” Chummy frowned. 

Louis looked back at the other boy after licking his ice cream away from his hand. 

“What if he finds out I told? Besides, it won’t make a difference. Mama won’t ever kick out Uncle Antoine, we need the money if she doesn’t want to work in a factory.” Louis replied with a sigh. 

“You don’t know that. You should tell her! She’s your mama, and you’re her baby. She’d want to know if you got hurt.” Chummy said adamantly. 

“I guess so. But I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.” Louis frowned. 

He went quiet for a moment before glancing over to see Chummy staring at him intently, as if deep in thought. 

“What? What is it?” He asked, going cross-eyed to see if he’d gotten any ice cream on his nose and just hadn’t noticed it somehow.

“I’m going to make today great for you so you forget all about your stupid Uncle Antoine,” Chummy said with a sort of fire in his eyes. “Mardi Gras is the best day of the year! Right next to Christmas and our birthdays, obviously. You should be having too much fun to think about the bad stuff.” 

Ultimately, Chummy was right and they both knew it. So, Louis agreed to lose himself in the music and revelry with his best friend. They wandered the neighborhood together, arms linked together as they both pretended to be the chipper upbeat hosts of radio variety shows. By the time the sun was starting to set, they were both grinning from ear to ear and laughing at their own stupid jokes. 

“Hey, you ever go in that witchdoctor voodoo store over there?” Louis asked as he wandered, his arm linked with Chummy’s at the elbow. 

Chummy looked at him, then over at the little storefront he was pointing towards across the street. 

“My mama said to steer away from that sort of place. She says it’s unholy or something,” he replied with a small frown. 

“It’s just a store. I’m not scared of some witchdoctor.” Louis asserted. “We should go in!” 

“We shouldn’t.” Chummy shook his head. 

“What, are you afraid? Scared he’ll read his tarot cards at you or something?” Louis teased. 

“No!” Chummy shot back. 

“Then what are you waiting for? Come on, we’ll go in really quick before we have to head home.” 

Chummy sighed. “Fine, alright, if it’ll get you off my back.” 

Louis beamed and pulled his best friend across the road, checking both ways for anyone driving around before they darted across. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he put a hand on the door. If he was remotely scared, he wasn’t about to let Chummy know. He kept smiling eagerly and pushed the door open, ringing a small bell over the doorframe. 

The shop was a cramped little thing, with masks hanging on the walls in rows, cloth dolls, beads, and candles of every size and color lining every shelf and hook. In the back corner was a small table where an even smaller woman sat, illuminated by a few candles as she picked the cards up off the old wood. 

“Well, aren’t you two punctual? Come sit a spell.” The woman said. Her voice was as small as her body, but everything about her seemed to be much larger. 

Chummy looked over at Louis, who looked over at Chummy. 

“We should go, actually. Mama will skin me alive if I’m late for dinner.” Chummy said, trying to tug his friend away and back out the door. 

“Will it take long?” Louis asked the woman at the table. 

“Not at all, dear.” The woman crooned. “Just a few minutes.”

Chummy whimpered. Louis stood still a moment and considered it. All the masks on the walls suddenly felt as if they had eyes and they were all staring at him. 

“If it won’t be that long.” He said, trembling as he walked over to join the woman at the table. 

It was only upon sitting down at the table a couple of feet away from her that he could see the cloudy haze over her eyes. 

“Thank you for joining me, Alastor.” the woman said. 

Louis had to keep himself from standing up and grabbing his best friend by the arm and booking it out of there. Instead, he swallowed hard. “That’s not my name, ma’am. I think you have me confused for someone else.” 

“I’ve never been confused, dearest. Come here and let me see you.” 

“Um, can you-?” Louis asked, shutting up when the woman grabbed his face and pulled his head closer to her own so he was staring wide-eyed into her eyes. 

Her fingers grazed over his face as if trying to map everything, from the upturned tip of his nose to his eyelids. They stopped and rested over his lips. 

“There is a seed in you, boy.” The woman finally spoke again. “It’s dark as night and buried deep. It has yet to take root and start sprouting, but when it does, it’ll be ugly as the devil. You have the chance yet to find the seed, tear it out, and throw it away to grow something nicer. But it will be difficult to do alone.” 

Louis blinked and listened before laughing nervously. The woman couldn’t be serious. He was still a schoolboy. There was nothing dark or ugly about him. 

“Heed my warning, Alastor, even if we never meet again. You must work to find the seed and tear it out of you.” The woman said with a frown. 

“Why do you keep calling me that? I’ve told you already, that isn’t my name.” Louis asked. 

“Isn’t it?” The woman challenged. 

Louis jumped about a foot in the air when he felt Chummy’s hand on his arm. 

“We really need to go. Thank you, but we need to go home.” Chummy said to the woman, hauling his skinny friend out of the chair. 

Louis didn’t protest this time and rushed out the door of the shop after his friend. They both took a moment to relax in the night air and the normalcy of life outside the shop before looking at each other and laughing nervously. 

They walked together down the streets, their stomachs starting to growl as they got closer and closer to their homes. They hugged each other tightly before letting each other go for the night. 

“We won’t tell our Mamas about the shop, right?” Chummy checked. 

“Of course not. If I told my Mama, she’d send me off to live in the closest cathedral.” Louis replied with a shake of his head. 

“Good. It’s probably best to just forget it, anyways.” 

“It was all a bunch of hokey anyways. I’ll bet she had too much gin before we walked in.”

The boys laughed, still a bit awkwardly, before finally parting to head off into their respective neighborhoods. Louis was still actively trying not to think too much about the voodoo shop when he got home, or any sort of devilish seed, or anyone named Alastor. 

“Mama, I’m home!” he called as he got to the door and slipped his shoes off. He frowned a bit when he didn’t hear an answer right away, but the sound of faint giggling at the other end of the long home. 

He curiously made his way through the rooms of the house and down the hallway that led to the master bedroom in the back. The door was half-closed, and through the crack, he could see Mama and Uncle Antoine on the bed. Mama had her back to him, but Antoine was facing him. Antoine had his mouth at Mama’s neck and he looked like he was biting it. Mama kept giggling and sighing and Louis felt his entire body heat up with rage when Antoine glanced up, looked him in the eye, and continued with whatever he was doing. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next couple of years passed without much change beyond Louis’ gradually worsening vision. He finished eighth grade at fourteen years old, without any plan to continue on to high school. He didn’t know anyone from his class that would be. Besides, he had better things to do with his time. The sooner he could provide for his family, the sooner they could kick Uncle Antoine out on his seat. 

Chummy had decided to stop his school career as well to help his mother run her home laundry business. 

June in New Orleans only reminded everyone the hard way that they lived in a swamp. When the days became too hot for them to do anything very active, Louis and Chummy would find their way to the closest soda fountain, one of them would go in to get two cold Coca-Cola’s and they’d sit somewhere and drink together. 

“God Almighty, we need some sort of breeze around here.” Chummy sighed as they sat on the grass on Louis’ front lawn. “I’m about to throw myself into a lake or a bayou with all the alligators to cool down.”

Louis smiled and laughed, opening his mouth to reply and pausing as he turned to see his closest friend stripping his shirt off. Now when had Chummy gotten rid of his baby fat? His skin was perfectly smooth and looked as soft as butter. All of a sudden, he’d realized just how perfect his best friend was. Anyone would be lucky to call him their beau. 

Everything about him looked butter soft. Louis had half a mind to lean over and see if the same went for his lips. 

“Louis? Are you alright?” Chummy asked after a moment, smiling as he shook his friend’s shoulder. 

Louis blinked back to reality, only just realizing what he’d been thinking about. “Huh? Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Well don’t go blank like that on me, then.” Chummy laughed, reaching up to ruffle Louis’ dark hair. 

Louis smiled and laughed along with him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hug him close to himself. 

“Say, Louis, what were your plans to do now that school’s done?” Chummy asked as they leaned into each other. 

“I want to work at one of the local radio stations. I’m going to a big broadcaster one day, and make enough money to support me and Mama.” Louis replied immediately. 

“That’d be good for you. You have a good voice for radio.” Chummy hummed. “It’s all nasally and fun to listen to.” 

“Hey! What do you mean it’s nasally?” Louis gasped. 

Chummy just grinned and laughed, letting the white boy give him a gentle shove. 

“Gee, just for that I hope you spill your Cola.” Louis huffed, smiling all the while. 

“Oh, you love me. Besides, I said it was fun to listen to you. It’s a compliment.” Chummy said, continuing to giggle. 

“Sometimes I question my own sensibilities.” Louis sighed, just shaking his head. 

Chummy just grinned and hugged Louis close against himself and kissed his forehead teasingly. 

Louis was about to open his mouth when he heard a throat being cleared from the front door of his house. 

Uncle Antoine stood there in his suit with a hard frown on his face. Chummy immediately let him go. Sometimes Louis could swear Antoine only wore the suit for looks. 

“Sorry, Mr. Lefebvre.” Chummy said softly. 

Louis resisted the urge to tell him he had nothing to apologize for. He’d really liked the hugs and kisses anyways. 

“Sure you are. Go run at home, why don’t you? Leave my boy well enough alone. He needs to get a job now and he can’t do that when he’s always seen with someone like you hanging around.” Antoine huffed. “Louis say goodbye and come inside.” 

Louis frowned at that. There was something about Antoine talking like he was his father that made him want to lash out. Just because he hung around his Mama like they were married didn’t make him his Papa. He wouldn’t want someone like Antoine to be his Papa anyways. 

“I’d better head out. I’ll see you around, Louis.” Chummy said softly, getting up from the ground with Louis. 

“Be safe heading home,” Louis replied, hugging Chummy tight one last time. 

He watched Chummy head off down the street and sighed a bit as he trudged back to the front door of his own home. 

“Louis, you should steer away from people. Make friends with your own kind. It’s better for everyone.” Antoine sighed as he shut the door behind them. 

“Or is it just better for you? So you don’t need to be uncomfortable any more?” Louis challenged as he made his way to the living room to where the big radio stood against the wall. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy. I think I know more about the way the world works than you do.” Antoine snapped. “Listen, you two being together is bad for both you and him. Imagine if the wrong person caught wind that you two were hanging around each other. If that person got mad about it, do you know who’d get the worst of the punishments?” 

Louis frowned as Antoine grabbed him and spun him away from the radio, holding him by the shoulders. 

“If the wrong people find out about a boy like him hanging around a boy like you, they’ll find him and his whole family and string them up in the nearest tree big enough for it.” Antoine continued. 

Louis blinked, his anger fading into shock. “They’ll what?” 

“Your Mama never said anything because she didn’t want to scare the life out of you and you don’t have any other friends, really. The Klan will find that Chummy boy’s entire family and hang them, or make them wish they would.” Antoine sighed. 

“That’s murder, you can’t do that,” Louis argued. 

Antoine sighed and moved to push his brunet bangs away from his face and push his glasses up the bridge of his nose to sit properly. “Louis. It’s best for you and him if you never see that boy again.” 

Louis frowned. If this was really something Antoine felt strongly about, the man wouldn’t rest until he got his way. “Can I call him or write him, at least?” 

“If you keep it private, I suppose. But don’t let it keep you from finding other friends, alright? When you start working, make friends with the other boys at the radio station.” 

“Alright.” Louis conceded, pulling away from Antoine. 

Left without any distinct plans for the day, he found himself yearning for something to occupy his mind and distract him from reality. He turned back to the radio and switched the thing on. He listened to the host absently as he moved to the front door to check the mail. He sorted through it, picking out an envelope addressed to him. He hardly ever got any mail, so he was naturally intrigued. 

“Breaking news out of Austria, folks,” the radio host said, his tone suddenly changing to sound rather dour. It pulled Louis’ attention away from his letter. 

“The archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife have been shot in Sarajevo, in Bosnia. More on this story as it develops, of course.” The host explained simply. 

Louis stared at the radio before turning his attention back to his mail. He turned the envelope and turned it over, pulling out the paper inside and unfolding it. He held his breath as he read through it, not noticing Antoine walk into the living room and watching him. 

It was an offer from a local station for a position as an apprentice host. It was the doorway to his lifelong dream, written in ink on the paper. He stared at the words in awe and pushed his glasses up once again. 

“What’s it say?” Antoine asked, sitting down on the couch with a glass of gin. 

“They want me to be an apprentice,” Louis replied, looking back at the man. 

“Really? Bring it here.” Antoine said. 

Louis did as he was told and stood to the side as Antoine looked over the letter and smiled with approval. 

“Good work, kid. Your Mama’s going to be very proud.” Antoine hummed, patting Louis on the shoulder and letting his hand rest there. 

Louis eyed the hand warily after a moment as Antoine’s thumb started to rub him. Something about it made his stomach turn. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll make sure to tell her as soon as she gets home.” He replied uneasily, only relaxing when Antoine pulled the hand back. “Do you need the telephone?”

“No, go ahead,” Antoine replied, sitting back on the couch. 

Louis nodded and practically ran to the phone they kept on a table in the hallway. He knelt down in front of it to get his mouth by the mouthpiece and held the earpiece to his ear before waiting on the operator. 

“I need to call Ms. Lorraine Walker, I’m the Tremé neighborhood of New Orleans, please.” He recited. 

“Alright, just a moment. I’ll put you through.” The operator replied before the line went silent for a bit. Then the ringing started. 

“Hello?” Ms. Walker answered after a moment. 

“Hello, Ms. Walker. Is Chummy around?” Louis asked. 

“Oh, it’s just you. I’ll see if I can’t pull his nose out of that book of his for you. Hang on, honey.” Ms. Walker replied. 

Louis smiled excitedly at the idea of getting to tell Chummy his big news. As he knelt on the ground, he suddenly felt like he was being watched. He glanced over to see Antoine staring at him, seemingly lost in thought. He cocked his head to one side and, when Antoine noticed they’d made eye contact, he quickly looked away. What a weirdo. How Mama could stand having him around for so long was unimaginable.

“Hey, Louis!” Chummy’s picked up the phone. 

“Hey, Chummy! Guess what?” Louis smiled again, relaxing at the sound of his closest friend’s voice. 

“What?” Chummy’s asked.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Shut up, Lefebvre. What’s going on?” 

Louis laughed and shifted to get more comfortable on the floor. He could feel Antoine staring at him again. This time, he noticed that the man was pointedly looking at his hips. He glanced down to make sure nothing was wrong with his pants. They seemed alright to him. 

“I got the job! I’m gonna be an apprentice at a local radio station!” He said, snapping back to attention. 

“Congratulations! I told you you have a radio voice.” Chummy laughed. 

Louis could practically hear the other boy smiling, and started to smile as well. Chummy’s smile was so big and bright. His teeth were perfect and white and when he smiled, it lit up his whole face. It had to be one of Louis’ favorite sights in the world. 

“You also told me it was nasally.” He teased. 

“Because it is.” Chummy laughed. 

“Shut it!” Louis laughed, only looking away when he heard the door open and close. “Ah, Mama’s home. She wants me to help with dinner tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Deal. Goodnight, Louis.” 

“Goodnight, Chummy. Sleep tight.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Lefebvre.” Chummy teased before they both finally hung up the call. 

Mama came over when he was done talking and kissed Louis on the forehead, her red lipstick leaving a mark there. “You know, I expected to see Chummy over here in the flesh.” She hummed.

“He was, but Uncle Antoine told him to go home and not come back. We can still call and write, though.” Louis explained, getting up from the ground to wash his hands and put on an apron to help his mother in the kitchen.

“Ah. Well, I suppose that’s for the best for both of you. It’s safer that way.” Mama hummed as she put her shopping bags in her bedroom and joined her son in the kitchen. “What did I miss today?”

“The Archduke of Austria got shot,” Louis replied as he watched his mother look through the recipe book.

“Oh?” Mama asked, only half paying attention. 

“Things have been rather tense over there. Good thing we’re over here.a whole ocean separates us from that mess.” Antoine said from the living room. 

“That’s right. It’s best if we stay out of any more wars, anyways.” Mama agreed. 

“Oh! And I got the apprenticeship at the radio station!” Louis continued. 

“Really? Oh, congratulations!” Mama gushed, hugging her son close enough that he could feel the edges of her corset under her dress. “When does that start?”

“I think the letter said next Monday,” Louis replied. 

“Well, we’ll pray for a good first week at church, then.” Mama decided. “And Monday I’ll make a cake to celebrate your first day as a man.” 

“Pretty soon he’s going to be making enough money to call himself the man of the house. I’d better prepare myself for that.” Antoine mused. 

Louis didn’t say anything. If Antoine weren’t here, he would be the man of the house. He could make money and protect Mama on his own. Soon enough, they wouldn’t need Antoine anymore and they could kick him to the curb and send him back to Baton Rouge where he belonged. 

Dinner went smoothly and Louis listened to the radio like he did every night before heading off the bed. He slept soundly in his room for a few hours before getting up to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He moved as quietly as he could to avoid waking Mama or Uncle Antoine. He paused when he heard the bed in the master bedroom creak, followed by Mama groaning softly. He stared at the closed door, both wanting to get Mama away and protect her, but also instinctively knowing he didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on behind that door. 

So, he downed his water, left the glass by the sink, and hurried off the bed with his door closed so he could sleep in silence. He pulled his pillow up and pressed it over his exposed ear for good measure before clenching his eyes shut. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING FOR SEXUAL VIOLENCE TOWARDS THE END OF THIS CHAPTER

Louis had to try and hide his joy the next morning as Antoine rushed out the door with a brief hug goodbye to both him and Mama. 

“He always waits until the last minute to leave for work.” Mama said with a small shake of her head. “Louis, darling, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to leave in an hour, too.”

“Where are you going?” Louis asked, eating his breakfast easily as he watched his mother sit down beside him at the table. 

“My ladies’ club, darling,” Mama replied, sipping her coffee and reaching over to push her son’s bangs back from his face. “Remind me to take you to a barber before your apprenticeship starts.” 

“My hair isn’t that long.” Louis protested.

“Is that so? Well, your mother begs to differ. Besides, it’s better to make sure you look like a proper gentleman before the first day of your career.” 

“I suppose so.” Louis gave in. 

“Good boy.” Mama smiled. “Perhaps Antoine can take you. His barber is supposed to be one of the best in the French Quarter, you know. You would have all the girls in New Orleans on your arm in no time.”

“Mama…” Louis groaned as he ate. “What if I don’t want all the girls in New Orleans on my arm?” 

“Well, actually I’d prefer if you didn’t. You’re still rather young to be thinking about any of that. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be that sort of man.” Mama acquiesced. “Speaking of ladies, though, my friend Margaret has a daughter your age. It’s never too early to dip your toes into courtship. Everything would be chaperoned, of course, but it would give you two a chance to get to know each other.”

“Mama, I’m barely fourteen and you’re already trying to get me married?” Louis frowned. 

“Well, not now, obviously. But in the future. You ought to think about your future beyond just what you’ll do for work, darling. Find yourself a respectable young girl, get to know her, and if you two make a good pair, that’s all the better.”

“Can we at least wait until I’m sixteen to worry about getting me married?” 

“Fine, fine. But it wouldn’t hurt to befriend Margaret’s girl, you know.” 

“I suppose.” Louis sighed, only to satisfy his mother and get her off his back about his future and how badly she apparently wanted him to have a family. 

“Good boy. We’ll get you your haircut, first, though.” Mama crooned, continuing to play with his hair. “Beautiful angel.” 

Louis had half a mind to ask his mother if she’d ever heard of a man falling in love with another man before. However, the thought of asking the question alone was enough to send his heart racing. So, he pushed his bread into his mouth hungrily instead. 

His mother bade him goodbye after they’d washed the dishes from breakfast, leaving him alone in the house. It took him approximately three seconds to decide what he would do with his time first and ran with a giddy smile to the telephone. He waited excitedly as the operator put him through and the other line started to ring. 

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered. 

“Chummy! I’m all alone in the house, come on over!” Louis said, bouncing on his knees as he spoke. 

“What? Didn’t your uncle just say not to come over anymore?” Chummy’s asked. 

“Antoine’s at work and what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. When Mama comes home, you can sneak out my window. Come on, please? It’s so boring here all alone.” Louis begged.

“Alright, alright. I’ll head over there in a minute.” Chummy sighed. “You’re annoying, you know that, right?” 

“I know. Thank you!” Louis chirped before hanging up the phone and waiting excitedly for Chummy to come over. 

He fixed his shirt and hair as he waited, studying himself in the mirror. Maybe Mama had a point about his hair getting long. He pushed it back from his face, checked his teeth, and took painstaking care to correct whatever mistakes he could before Chummy arrived. He jumped when he heard the rapping on the door and made sure he was absolutely perfect before he got the door to quickly let his friend inside. 

“You’re here! I missed you.” He hummed as he threw his arms around Chummy in a tight hug. 

“I missed you, too.” Chummy’s hummed, hugging him back. 

“You missed it, Mama spent most of breakfast trying to start marrying me off to some girl I’ve never met.” Louis lamented as he pulled away. 

“Yours too? My Mama was talking all about one of her church friend’s daughters, Lillian. She really wants me to like Lillian and marry her one day. But Lillian’s so boring! She only likes girl stuff.” Chummy groaned as they sat together in the living room. 

“Girl stuff?” Louis asked. 

“You know, girl stuff. Like embroidery and wearing fancy dresses to fancy dinners where you don’t know anyone.” Chummy replied. 

“Ah.” Louis nodded.

“When I get married, I want my wife to be interesting. I want a lady who can smoke cigars and shoot whiskey.” 

Louis laughed hard at that and shook his head. “You’d be better off marrying another man, then. Or at least a man who looks like a girl.” 

“What, like you?” Chummy teased back, reaching over to pinch his friend’s slim waist. 

“Hey! I do not!” Louis whined. 

“Well, you’d better put some muscle on, then.” Chummy laughed. 

“As if you’d ever have a chance with a girl like that, anyways. You’d crumble and break before you even got the chance to kiss her.” Louis teased back.

“I would not! I’m cool.” Chummy huffed.

“Sure you are, Chummy. Sure you are. I’ll bet you’ve already had your first kiss, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do, right?” 

“Obviously. Of course, I would. I know all about kissing.” Chummy’s replied, puffing up his chest. 

“You’ve never kissed a girl besides your mother, have you?” 

“No. You haven’t, either, though!” 

“Maybe not, but I never claimed to be the kissing expert.” Louis laughed before pausing as he got an incredibly risky idea. 

He glanced down at Chummy’s lips and swallowed lightly. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them. 

“We could practice, you know,” Louis said softly, looking back up at Chummy’s eyes. 

“Practice what? Kissing?” Chummy asked, cocking his head to one side. It almost hurt how cute it was. 

“Yeah, practice kissing. That way we’ll both know what it’s like. So, when we do kiss a girl for the first time, it’s perfect for her.” Louis replied. 

Chummy seemed to think it over. “Would it be very different? Kissing another boy rather than a girl?” 

“Girls have mouths and lips, don’t they? I’m pretty sure it would be about the same.” Louis replied. 

“I guess you’re right,” Chummy said, thinking it over some more. He then turned to pull the curtains shut and cover the window behind the living room sofa. “Alright, we can try it.” 

Louis nodded and tried to keep himself from smiling at the agreement. He and Chummy shifted closer together awkwardly. 

“How do they do this? How do they start?” Chummy asked softly. 

“Here, maybe you can hold me like this,” Louis said, gently taking his friend’s hands and guiding them to his waist. “And I can do this.”

Louis’s arms snaked up and over his best friend’s shoulders. He could feel Chummy’s warm hands through his shirt. Chummy held still a moment before moving one of his hands from Louis’ waist to take hold of his chin. Then, less than a second later, his mouth was covering Louis’. 

His lips were soft and impossibly warm. Then, his friend pulled back just as Louis felt himself melting. 

“I think you need to kiss back for this to count.” He said softly. 

“You caught me off guard,” Louis said defensively. 

“Alright, then consider this your warning. I’m going to kiss you now.” Chummy replied just before leaning in and making good on his word. 

That time, Louis wasn’t so shocked by the feeling. It was still just as wonderful as the first kiss, though. That time around, Louis leaned into the kiss and kissed Chummy back. They parted for a moment before starting to kiss each other again, simultaneously getting addicted to the feeling of being kissed. They kissed once, then, again and again, keeping their mouths closed against each other. 

Louis let his eyes flutter open when they took a little break between kisses to look up at his best friend. Then, just as he was hoping Chummy would hold him a little tighter, the other’s grasp on his waist tightened, his other hand tangling in his dark hair as he pulled him down into a deep, warm kiss. 

Louis gave a little ‘oh!’ before their lips slotted together. Chummy was pressed flush against him and holding him so securely. He could have died there in his best friend’s arms and died a happy man. 

When the kiss finally ended, Louis could feel his lips tingling and his cheeks flushed bright red. 

Chummy opened his eyes first, blinking a few times down at his friend in his arms. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me.” Chummy said, quickly pulling Louis back up and letting him go. 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Louis replied, shaking his head easily. Chummy’s worries face was so cute. He could kiss it again, all over. 

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to go that far.” Chummy sighed. “I just got to thinking about one of the girls on my block and I lost track of myself.” 

Louis felt something in him shatter. His emotions seemed to shift on a dime. His initial shock turned to disappointment and anger at himself for being disappointed at all. 

What had he been thinking? That Chummy would ever think of him as he thought of Chummy? It was ridiculous. Of course, he wouldn’t. Chummy was a normal man, and normal men fantasized about kissing women. He’d been the one fantasizing about kissing another man. He’d been the weird one. Something in him was horribly defective, and he’d had the audacity to think otherwise. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis replied, smiling softly at Chummy and shifting away from him. “I won’t tell anyone about it. Swear on my life.” 

“Swear on Alastor.” Chummy replied, cracking a smile of his own. 

The pair had never once returned to the voodoo shop, either alone or together. Neither of them knew who or what Alastor was. Still, they liked to make promises and oaths on the mysterious name.

“I swear on Alastor, whoever the bastard is, that I won’t tell a soul about how you kissed me.” Louis hummed, holding one hand over his heart and the other in the air. 

“Good. And I swear on Alastor that I won’t tell anyone how you were kissing back.” Chummy replied. Louis and Chummy both spit into their palms before clasping hands and shaking them to seal the deal. 

“Do you think we’re too old for that?” Louis asked with a small smile.

“Maybe.” Chummy laughed. 

They spent the next couple of hours talking and teasing each other on the couch, only stopping when Louis saw his mother coming down the sidewalk. 

He quickly ushered his friend to his room, urging him to climb out his bedroom window before they could get caught together. 

“I’ll call you later!” Louis promised his friend once Chummy had successfully escaped. He watched to make sure the other boy got out safely and undetected before returning to the living room, book in hand. He had only just sat down again and opened the back as Mama walked back into the room. 

Thinking about anything but Chummy and the way he’d kissed him for the rest of the day was basically fruitless. He would have given anything to kiss and hold the other boy again.

In the evening, he helped Mama in the kitchen with dinner, only half-listening as she talked. He wondered when the next time he could see Chummy might be. It was going to be much harder for them to sneak over to each other’s homes to see each other anymore. Once his apprenticeship began, he wouldn’t have nearly as much time on his hands. All the time he had free, Antoine and Mama would likely also have free, leaving him virtually no wiggle room to shimmy his way out of the house unnoticed. 

The only thing that snapped him out of his trance was the sound of Mama suddenly screaming and grabbing his hand. He looked over to realize that, at some point, he’d cut himself instead of the celery he was supposed to, somehow without ever feeling it. 

Mama was beside herself at the sight of her only son bleeding. She held his wounded hand, dragging Louis around as she looked for a rag she could wet and put on the wound to stop up the bleeding. The woman hardly ever spoke French in the house, but now she seemed to have forgotten any and all English. 

Uncle Antoine came home to the sight of her ushering Louis into a seat so she could assess his wound. “Whoa, what’s going on here?” 

“Louis cut himself. I don’t know how to tell if it’s very bad. Can you look at it? Will he need stitches?” Mama asked, frowning up at Antoine. 

“Here, kid, let me see it,” Antoine said, taking Louis’ hand from Mama. “Does it hurt very bad?” 

“No, not really. It only really stings.” Louis replied, letting his uncle unwrap his hand and examine his wounded knuckles. 

“Christ, Marie, he only nicked himself. Hell, I’ve had worse than that shaving in the morning.” Antoine sighed, letting go of his hand. “It’ll be healed by the end of the week, I’d bet money on it.” 

Mama let out a breath at that and gently kissed Louis’ wounded knuckles. 

“I’ll be more careful next time, Mama,” Louis said. 

“Good. Well, at least it’s nothing bad.” She agreed, getting up to get back to work on dinner. “Sorry if I scared you, dear. I’ve never been good around blood.” 

“I’ll take his place if you need a hand.” Antoine offered as he set his briefcase down by the table.

“I can still do it,” Louis said, getting up to return to his station. 

“Darling, are you sure? You don’t have to, Antoine can take over.” Mama said. 

“I can do it, Mama. I was almost done, anyway.” Louis replied. 

“Alright, if you insist,” Mama said. 

Louis pushed his hair back from his face, setting back to work on the vegetables with his mother. 

“Ah, Antoine, will you be going to the barbershop this weekend?” Mama asked after watching a bit to make sure Louis would be alright. 

“That was the plan. Did you want me to take our little sheepdog along?” Antoine asked with a laugh. 

“Please. His hair’s getting so long. He needs a haircut before he starts working. Oh! Louis, I made plans for you to meet Margaret’s daughter, Emma, on Sunday after church.” Mama said with a smile to her son. 

“Mama!” Louis groaned. 

“Don’t whine, Louis. Emma is a lovely girl. You two would get along famously.” Mama said sharply. 

“Is that Margaret Worthers you’re talking about?” Antoine asked from the table. 

“Yes, it is. Do you know the family?” Mama asked. 

“I manage Mr. Worthers’ portfolio. Louis, you’d better make a great impression. That’s a great family to get involved with if you can stay on their good side.” Antoine agreed. 

“I don’t want to start worrying about marriage right now.” Louis frowned. “Aren’t I a little too young? What if I don’t want to get married at all? Some men never get married, you know. Uncle Antoine’s never been married.” 

“Louis, it doesn’t hurt to make friends with the family,” Mama replied. “Now, enough. You’re the only son in this family. You have the duty to pass on the family name and continue the bloodline.” 

Louis frowned, wanting to tell her how absolutely archaic her ideas were. He had absolutely no interest in any girl he’d ever seen in his life, let alone meeting any of them at the altar and vowing his entire life to her. If he couldn’t marry whoever he wanted, then he’d simply never get married. He was fine alone, anyways. 

“Louis, come here a moment,” Antione said, pulling his nephew in to whisper into the boy’s ear. His breath smelled bad. “Something every young man needs to learn, often the hard way, is that you don’t question a lady on her convictions. When your Mama or any other lady you know gets like this, just smile and nod and make her happy.” 

Louis looked over at Antione and nodded with a small sigh. He took the man’s advice to keep himself on Mama’s good side more than anything else. He ate quietly and politely, determined not to get on her nerves any further for the night. He didn’t want to push her too far and wind up getting married at sixteen as punishment. 

He kissed his mother goodnight before retiring to bed for the night. He said goodnight to Antoine but refrained from touching the man at all. The man smelled like whiskey and way too much cologne. If he had to smell him more than absolutely necessary, he was sure he’d develop a coughing fit he would never recover from. 

After he’d donned his long flannel nightshirt, Louis crawled into his bed, the bedroom door securely closed as he settled in for the night. It didn’t take him long to start dreaming of Chummy. 

In his dreams, there was nothing stopping them from resting side by side on the grass in front of his house. He could reach over and take Chummy’s hand if he wanted to. Or he could turn over and curl into the other boy and use his shoulder as a pillow. Chummy could wrap an arm around him and hold him close and kiss his head. He could relax in the summer heat and fill his senses with the other boy by his side. They could talk to each other quietly and be great together. Chummy could make him smile and laugh until his face and sides ached. Chummy could kiss him until their mouths were red and sore. 

Louis woke when he felt the bed move.

“Chummy?” he asked softly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Shh,” Antoine whispered. 

Louis startled at that and quickly flipped over to find his uncle working on climbing into his bed. “What are you doing?” he asked, earning a hand over his mouth. 

“Be quiet,” Antoine said, crowding into Louis’ bed as the boy tried to scramble backward to get some room between the two of them. “Turn over.” 

Louis whined in confusion behind the hand, but Antoine was considerably larger and stronger than him. The man had him flipped over to face away from him in an instant. A rag from the kitchen was then pulled out and pushed into his mouth to muffle any sound he made. 

Louis fought to get a grasp on what was happening and why as he felt a warm hand push up the bottom of his nightshirt. The feeling of the hand on his bare thigh made his stomach turn. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to vomit. 

Antoine held him tight as he continued. Louis bit down onto the rag in his mouth as he felt Antoine’s warmth press into his back, followed by the feeling of being torn apart. He was trembling by then, his eyes shut tight as tears rolled down his cheeks and onto his pillowcase. His hands closed into fists on the sheets. 

The pain seemed never-ending. He had no idea how long it actually lasted. It could have been minutes, but it also could have been hours. When it finally stopped, he felt something warm and wet between his legs. Then, the presence behind him was gone. The door opened and shut and he was left alone again. 

He didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night. He spent the rest of the night trembling, crying, or both. He had no idea what to do. He wanted to tell someone, but who would he tell? The police would never believe him. Mama would tell him to stop lying about his uncle. He could tell Chummy, but that wouldn’t do much to change anything. 

For one of the first times in his life, he felt totally and utterly invisible. He held the rag tightly and cried as he tried to clean whatever was between his legs in the dark of the night, his hand shaking all the while. 


	4. Chapter 4

Louis barely got any sleep that week. He found himself in his bed every night, wishing he could fall asleep but too scared to close his eyes or turn his attention away from his bedroom door. For the rest of the week, the only one who opened the door after he’d gone to bed was Mama to check in on him before she went to bed as well. 

On Saturday, he barely talked to Antoine in the car or at the barbershop. He’d given his uncle the cold shoulder for the rest of the week and he could have gone much longer. He couldn’t be sure what the man might do if he said something wrong, or what might trigger another attack. It was safer to simply keep his mouth shut and keep to himself. 

The weekend lasted forever. When Monday finally arrived, Louis couldn’t get himself dressed and ready for the day fast enough. Mama made sure his glasses were spotless and his clothes were perfectly ironed and pressed. Antoine drove him to the radio station on his way to his own office. 

He was nervous when he walked inside with the lunch Mama had packed him. The secretary working at the front desk looked up at him and smiled. 

“Louis Lefebvre?” the older woman asked gently. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Louis nodded, walking closer to the desk. 

“I’m Sophia. Pleasure to meet you.” She said, reaching over the desk to shake his hand. “Come, they’re expecting you in the recording studio.” 

Louis nodded and followed the woman, looking around the building in awe as they walked together through the halls of the radio station. Sophia showed him the break room, then the bathroom, and then explained the functions of each other room before finally letting him into one where a couple of men sat at microphones while music played on the air. 

“Lawrence, Arthur, this is your new apprentice, Louis. Louis, this is Lawrence and Arthur.” Sophia said gently, ushering Louis inside. 

The three got acquainted and Sophia left Louis with the two older men, both of whom seemed to be well into their forties. Almost immediately, the pair treated him as if he was a son and started to show him every bit of recording equipment and explained to him how everything worked. Louis flinched when one of Arthur unexpectedly set a hand on his back, but did what he could to brush it off as if it was nothing. 

At the next musical break, Lawrence ushered Louis out into the hall, being careful not to touch the boy at all. 

“Listen, I need you to know that you’re safe here, alright?” he said discreetly, crouching a bit to get at eye level with the teenager. 

“Well, gosh, I’d hope so,” Louis replied. 

“No, I mean- look, I saw the way you flinched back there when Arty put a hand on you. I’ll tell him to avoid that from now on for you, don’t worry. But I’ve seen that sort of thing before, trust me. I don’t know what your life’s like back home, but you’ve got a sanctuary here.” Lawrence said softly, keeping eye contact with Louis. 

Louis blinked at that and felt his throat close up. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered, looking down at his feet. 

“Now, we won’t make you go on air quite yet. Maybe on Friday, we’ll let you join us. But until then, you’ll be shadowing us to see how we do everything. But the best advice I can give you is to always just put on a happy face before you start recording.” Lawrence said. “And I mean really smile. No matter how bad you were hurt at home before coming back here, smile. Smile big and wide, because people really can hear when you’re smiling when you talk. Can you show me your smile, kid?” 

Louis blinked at the advice but obediently grinned up at Lawrence. 

“Beautiful. You’ve got great teeth, I’m jealous.” Lawrence said, smiling back down at him. “And Louis, even outside the booth and outside this building, just keep smiling, alright? No one will mess with you, because smiling gives off an air of confidence and strength. You’ll fool them into thinking you’re bigger than you are, and anyone who’d want to hurt you will choose a new target. Soon enough, you’ll start to fool yourself until you feel as strong as you look.” 

Louis listened and took a mental note of the advice. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Call me Larry.” Lawrence replied. “Shall we go back inside?” 

Louis nodded and followed Lawrence back into the recording booth where he spent the rest of the day shadowing Lawrence and Arthur and watching as they worked. He’d almost forgotten who was going to be taking him home for the night. His smile dropped when he walked out of the building to see Antoine’s Detroiter waiting in front of the building. 

He sighed a bit and started to mentally count down the hours until he’d return to the studio the next day while walking to the car to climb into the seat next to Antoine’s. 

“There’s the young man.” Antoine hummed, reaching over to ruffle Louis’ hair. Louis flinched but let the man do as he pleased. “How was your first day working?” 

“It was fine,” Louis replied, keeping his eyes ahead as they started the drive back home. 

At home, Louis kept close to Mama in the kitchen and kept his distance from Antoine. Mama was more than happy to get the attention and fawned over him. The night went like any other, and ended in Louis eventually falling asleep from exhaustion after staring in fear at his bedroom door, just in case it opened. 

One day blended into another, blended into another and another. The week seemed to fly by, and then Saturday came like a bat out of Hell. Mama had arranged a chaperoned luncheon for him to meet her friend Margaret’s daughter, Emma. Mama and Margaret would be sitting along. 

“I still think I’m too young to be courting anyone,” Louis replied as Mama fixed his bowtie. 

“I’ve told you, Louis, it’s not courting. You’re simply meeting her and getting to know her a little bit.” Mama replied, straightening his blazer and hair for him. She pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“But you want it to lead to courting,” Louis replied. 

“Louis.” Mama challenged. 

Louis knew better than to test his mother when she took that tone. It was bad enough he had to spend his Saturday afternoon with some girl he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. He didn’t need to make it worse with Mama tanning his hide just because he’d wanted to get cheeky. 

“Just nod and smile, kiddo. That’s the only way to survive a lunch surrounded by ladies.” Antoine advised from the living room sofa, where he perused that day’s newspaper. “Godspeed to you both.” 

“Don’t get too comfortable here alone, you.” Mama teased, smiling over at Antoine. “We’ll be home before you know it.” 

“I’ve never once been comfortable in my life.” Antoine deadpanned. 

Louis frowned while Mama giggled. She fixed her hair and hat in the mirror before moving to leave the house with one hand holding onto Louis’ elbow. 

“Just smile, darling. Emma isn’t going to kill you.” Mama advised as they neared the park and spotted Margaret and Emma on a picnic blanket some ways away. 

“No, but you might.” Louis quipped. 

“I might,” Mama warned. “Smile.” 

Louis swallowed but put on a warm smile to appease her. They walked over to the picnic blanket together. 

Mama and Margaret greeted each other warmly with tight hugs. 

“This must be your boy, Louis.” Margaret crooned. “My, how he’s grown.” 

Louis just smiled at the woman, not sure if he’d ever actually met her in his life. 

“He has, and he only keeps growing more and more. He’ll be a regular beanpole like his father soon enough.” Mama agreed, putting a hand on his shoulder as she showed him off like a prize horse. 

“My Emma’s been in the same boat lately, too. The poor girl keeps growing out of her clothes.” Margaret agreed. “Oh! That’s right, I don’t know if these two have met. Louis, this is my daughter, Emma.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Louis replied to Emma, who stared at him for a moment before putting out her hand when Margaret nudged her. 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” She said softly. 

For the sake of decorum, Louis took her hand and placed the ghost of a kiss on her knuckles. He glanced over at Mama, who was smiling with pride. 

The four of them settled on the blanket, Mama and Margaret seared next to each other to force Louis and Emma to sit next to each other. 

Emma didn’t speak much, and Louis didn’t care enough about the girl or his potential future with her to worry about charming her. However, he knew Mama wouldn’t be happy if he didn’t at least try. So, he cleared his throat and reached over to refill her small glass with water they’d brought in the basket. 

“So, I’m guessing you were coerced into this, too?” He whispered to her, smiling softly. 

The girl blinked, as if in shock that he was even talking to her. Then she smiled back at him and nodded. “Yes, I was. Mother thinks I need to start finding a husband now. I think she’s gone mad, but don’t tell her I said that.” 

Louis smiled a bit more genuinely at the reply. “My Mama keeps insisting it’s more about meeting each other than courting. I don’t know how stupid she thinks I am.” He whispered back. 

Emma smiled and giggled behind a gloved hand. He felt a little bad. The girl was objectively pretty, with dark brunette ringlets that fell around her shoulders and an olive complexion made complete by the dimples on her cheeks. She was pretty and she seemed nice enough. Louis wondered how hard it would be to love her. Perhaps he could train himself to think about Emma whenever he was thinking about Chummy. 

“I should have brought a wider brimmed hat.” Mama sighed as she ate. “I’m going to burn up in this heat and my face will be late for weeks.” 

“Poor Louis’s in the direct line of the sun, though. The poor boy will fry more than you.” Margaret replied as they watched their children whispering and smiling. 

“Don’t worry, ma’am, I don’t burn. I only tan.” Louis replied easily. 

“He can get really dark, too. He used to spend almost the entire day outside when he was little.” Mama mused. “The school almost locked him out when kindergarten started.” 

“Poor thing.” Margaret cooed. “Well, I suppose it makes sense, though. Wasn’t his father black?”

“Creole. Josiah was Creole, from Jamaica.” Mama corrected.

“Ah, that’s right.” Margaret nodded. “Well, your boy turned out lovely, nevertheless.”

“Don’t talk about my father that way.” Louis suddenly snapped at Margaret, frowning. “What’s it to you if I burn or tan in the sun? Would it really make me so much better if I turned red like hellfire?” 

“Louis Lefebvre.” Mama gasped. “You forget yourself. Apologize to Margaret this instant.” 

“Don’t worry about it too much, I’m sure he just gets this from that dark friend of his. I’m sure it’ll phase out as soon as he makes some normal friends.” Margaret hummed.

Louis was suddenly overtaken by the urge to hit the woman. He’d never hit anyone in his life, let alone a woman or a girl. But he really wanted to backhand Margaret. He stood up and caught himself before taking a step closer to Margaret. He wouldn’t actually hit her. He couldn’t.

His hands were shaking as he balled them up into fists. 

“Louis, sit back down and eat,” Mama warned. 

“No.” Louis replied. “Emma, it was lovely to meet you. I need to separate myself from this situation.” 

“Louis!” Mama said, reaching over to grab his wrist as he started to walk briskly away from the blanket. 

“Don’t touch me!” Louis snapped at her before realizing what he’d done. He was going to get it when she got home. That was a bridge he’d cross later. 

Until then, he walked down the street aimlessly, silently seething with rage. Without meaning to, he found himself at the same voodoo shop he and Chummy had visited as boys. Chummy has had nightmares for a few nights afterward. Louis had never since returned. Everything in him told him to push the door open and walk inside. 

The entire store seemed to still as he walked inside. All the masks on the wall seemed to be staring at him again. The old woman was arranging a shelf and turned to look over at him at the sound of his footsteps. 

“As I live and breathe. Alastor’s back.” She chuckled, smiling at him. 

“That’s not my name.” Louis bit back. 

“Someone’s upset you.” The woman observed. “Maybe quite a few things are upsetting you, and you’ve bottled it up for too long, and now you’re about ready to explode.” 

“That’s it.” Louis sighed. 

“Come, we’ll talk. Do you want any sweet tea?” The woman asked, leading the way over to her table where the candles were lit and the cards were ready. 

“No, thank you. I’ve never been a fan.” Louis replied, sitting down. He wondered if it was sad that the first person he was drawn to vent to was the old voodoo woman. 

“Fair enough. I’ve met some people who put so much sugar in their tea, you’d think you were drinking molasses.” The woman chuckled. “Now, then. What’s eating you, Alastor?” 

Louis sighed through his nose and took a moment to collect his thoughts before everything came pouring out, starting with the comments made at the lunch he hadn’t even wanted to attend. Then he told her about how he’d been barred from seeing his closest friend in person ever again, for the sake of his reputation. 

“I see.” The woman hummed as she listened patiently. 

“Then there’s my uncle. Antoine, his name is. I hate him.” Louis explained. 

“What makes you hate him, my dear?” The woman asked. 

“I hate that he exists.” Louis huffed. “He’s everywhere my father should be like he’s trying to replace him. He’s doing a terrible job of pretending to be my father, too. He talks to Mama like they’re married. They share a bed like they’re married. He talks to me like I’m his son. I hate him so much.” 

“You don’t want your Papa to be replaced.” The woman nodded. 

“Exactly. My uncle hurt me, almost a week ago now. He hurt me really bad. My father wouldn’t have ever hurt me, he loved me.” Louis said with a frown. 

“Do you mind if I asked how he hurt you, love?” The woman frowned. 

Louis swallowed. “He was, um, touching me. Not in a normal way, in a weird way, under my clothes. He kept telling me to be quiet and he shoved a rag in my mouth to shut me up.” 

The words came out softly. Louis sniffled as tears started to roll down his cheeks. 

“Did it continue after that?” The woman asked softly. 

“Yes.” Louis squeaked. 

“You don’t have to say anything more, then. I get it.” She said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and finding his hand to give it to him. 

Louis cried harder and took the cloth to dry his face and blow his nose. 

“Poor little dear. You feel disrespected, then?” She asked, avoiding touching him at all. 

“Yes, that’s it. They want me to be adult enough to have a job and start worrying about marriage, but they keep treating me like a little boy. They treat me like an adult and an equal for a few minutes and then they push me back down.” Louis choked out. 

“Take deep breaths, Al. There you go.” The woman hummed. “How does it all make you feel?” 

“I’m angry. I’m terribly angry. I wanted to hit Mama’s friend today. I wanted to slap her hard with the back of my hand so she’d feel my knuckles hitting her face.” Louis replied when he could breathe easily again, wringing the fabric in his hands absently. “I want to make Uncle Antoine pay. He needs to pay for everything he’s done to me.” 

The woman hummed in understanding. “Remember the seed, Alastor. Rip it from the ground, don’t water it.” She warned. 

“My name isn’t Alastor!” Louis snapped at her. “My name is Louis, for the last time. I won’t sit here and pour my soul out to a complete stranger just to be called the wrong name.” 

He stood up from the table and left the handkerchief there before turning to leave the shop. The woman did nothing to stop him. 

No one respected him like they should. The only people who’d yet to disrespect him were Chummy, Lawrence, and Arthur. He was still mad when he got back home, though he had to admit, it had felt good to say everything that was upsetting him aloud to someone who was listening. 

Mama was already home when he got back and was sitting at the table with Antoine, neither of whom smiled when he let himself into the house. 

“Where’ve you been? You can’t just storm off like that, Louis.” Mama asked as he took his shoes off at the door. 

“I went for a walk. I needed air.” Louis replied shortly. 

“The way you left the luncheon today was completely disrespectful. We’ll be lucky if the Worthers want anything to do with you after this.” Mama frowned. 

“I was disrespectful? Mama, you were there! You heard what she was saying about Papa and Chummy! Do you just expect me to sit there and smile and take that?” Louis frowned. “If Papa were here, he’d want me to do something.” 

“Life isn’t fair, Louis. The sooner you make peace with that, the better.” Mama said with a frown. “Your father was a good man, but he knew how to pick his battles. This battle path you’re on is too big for you. It’s too big for anyone, even if you had a team behind you. No, the things she was saying weren’t right or fair to you. But that’s the way things have always been, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot to change it.” 

“Louis, you have no idea the kinds of things Josiah and I were told, even since we were born. Sure, those comments Margaret made were out of pocket. But it wasn’t that bad compared to everything else.” Antoine said with a sigh. “Your father was threatened when he got engaged to your mother, did you know that? Thankfully they never got him, but even a little impurity in the bloodline was enough to make some people crazy. The fact that you were even born is a miracle.” 

Louis fell silent at that and sighed a bit. “I don’t want to be treated like that.” He said softly. 

“And you probably won’t be. You pass off as a white boy enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know our family tree, which I’d wager is mostly everyone. You have it good, Louis. Don’t let a few out of pocket comments get you down.” Antoine said, reaching over to gently put a hand on Louis’ shoulder, only to have it shrugged off immediately. 

“Come here, baby,” Mama said, turning to face Louis and holding her arms out to him. 

He obediently went over to her and let the woman hug him tight and pull him onto her lap. 

“You’re just innocent of the world, that’s all this boils down to. You’re getting to the age where you realize how ugly it can all be.” She crooned, smoothing his hair and holding him close. “It’s growing pains. It happens to everyone.” 

“I hate it.” Louis confided, resting against his mother. 

“Everyone does. But it’ll pass, I promise.” Mama said, holding him there for a while longer until he’d seemed to settle down. “That said, you know today can’t go unpunished.” 

“I figured,” Louis replied. 

“It’ll be a spanking, ten of them, and then we’ll leave you alone so you can have your space if you want it. Alright?” Mama explained. 

Louis swallowed. He’d only been spanked once before and he couldn’t remember enjoying a second of it. 

“Antoine will do it. I’m too weak when it comes to you.” Mama said softly, pushing his hair from his face. 

Louis frowned at that but said nothing. Anything he wanted to say would only make it worse. 

He was shaking when Antoine tugged his trousers down to his knees and lifted his shirt before bending him over his knee as he sat on the couch. He counted each blow in his head, crying through each hard slap and sting. On the tenth one, he could have sworn Antoine’s hand stayed on his backside, lingering there for a second or two longer than necessary. 

He tugged away and pulled his pants back up to cover himself quickly, still shaking and crying as he went into his room to be alone.


	5. Chapter 5

They never did hear back from the Worthers family about whether or not Louis would ever get a second chance with their daughter. Louis wasn’t worried about it. It wasn’t like he knew the girl enough to form any hard opinions on her. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to. 

Starting with the police. It had taken letter upon letter and a few phone calls, but Chummy had finally worn him down. The police were there to help him out. All he had to do was walk inside and tell them about his uncle. Somehow, saying the words aloud seemed just as terrifying as having it happen again. But, if he had to say it so it would never happen again, it would be worth it. 

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before pulling the door open and letting himself into the station. One of the officers left his desk to greet him as he came inside. 

“Hey, sport. How can I help you today?” The officer asked, smiling warmly at him. 

“Um, I need to report someone. My uncle.” Louis replied. 

The officer’s demeanor turned serious at the answer and nodded. “Give me a second to grab the paperwork.” 

Louis nodded and watched the officer return to his desk to fish some papers from a few different folders. The man seemed to be in his thirties or forties. When he had the things ready, he waved Louis over to his desk. 

“Alright. So, what did your uncle do?” The officer asked. 

Louis looked down at him, then around at the other officers at their desks in the office. The room was too quiet, they would all hear him say it. If he started to cry, they’d hear and see that, too. 

“Um, is there somewhere private we can talk?” Louis asked softly. 

The officer nodded and stood up again to usher Louis to a private questioning room down the hall. Louis relaxed a bit when the door was shut and the two of them were seated across from each other at the table. 

“Alright. Now then, let’s start easy. What’s your name?” The officer asked, dipping the pen in ink.

“Louis Lefebvre.” 

“And what did your uncle do?” 

Louis swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady himself as much as he could. 

“He, um, he hurt me,” Louis replied softly, feeling his heart beating harder and harder in his chest. 

“Alright, how did he hurt you? Please be as detailed as you can.” The officer asked. 

“He, um, h-he…” Louis started, he voice going shakier the more he thought about that night. Suddenly, he was back in his bedroom, frozen in fear and confusion in his bed. He felt like he wanted to cry, vomit, and faint. 

“He came into my bedroom at night.” He finally started over, his voice barely over a whisper as he stared down at the table. “I heard him come in and I asked what he wanted, but he told me to be quiet. He kept coming closer and then he got into my bed so I asked what he was doing, and he told me to be quiet. Eventually, he shoved a dishrag from the kitchen into my mouth. Then, he-“ 

Louis let out a choked sob and clamped a hand over his mouth. He paused to take a few deep breaths. 

“He put his hands under my nightshirt.” He said through tears. “He touched me and took my underwear off and- and- and-“ 

He broke down into sobs again, covering his face with his hands as he shook in the chair and tried to gain the courage to keep talking. 

What would Alastor have done? Alastor would keep talking, probably. Alastor would be strong and say everything without a single tear. 

Louis sniffled and hiccuped. “I’m sorry.” He said softly to the officer, wiping his eyes. 

“Take your time.” The officer replied. 

Louis sniffled again and took a few more deep breaths. “He had sex with me against my will.” He finally choked out. “He raped me. And then, when he was, um, done, he left.” 

The officer nodded as he wrote. “And what’s your uncle’s name?”

“Antoine. Antoine Lefebvre.” Louis replied through his tears. “Please, you have to help me, please. Please, Officer, I don’t know if I could take it if he did it again. I know he’s going to do it again someday. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at me sometimes, and the way he touches me when he thinks no one’s looking. I just know he’s going to do it again. I can hardly sleep anymore, I just lay awake watching the door every night until exhaustion takes me. Please, Officer, you’ve got to help me.”

The officer looked up at the begging boy and sighed as he set the pen down. 

“Listen, I really hate cases like this. Both because of how damn ugly they are, and also because they’re super hard to do anything with. Basically what I’m saying is, until we get some sort of proof that you’re uncle is violating you, we can’t get a warrant and we can’t arrest him.” The officer explained. 

“Proof?” Louis balked. “I’m sitting here bawling like an infant, would I do that if I was lying?” 

“You’d be surprised, honestly.” 

“So what the hell do you want me to do? Make a picture show of it?” 

“No, of course not. We just need something more substantial than an anecdote from a kid.” 

“Right.” Louis frowned. “Wonderful, well, I’ll just come back in the dead of the night next time I have blood running down my leg and we’ll see if that’s proof enough for you, Officer…”

“Donaldson.” The officer supplied. 

“Officer Donaldson. Well, I’ll see you later then.” Louis said before getting up from the table to leave, feeling his face burning. 

He felt mad enough he could scream into a pillow and then tear the thing in half and watch the down fly everywhere. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Officer Donaldson said, getting up after Louis and setting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me!” Louis snapped, slapping the hand away before quickly storming out of the room, and then out of the station entirely. 

He felt humiliated. He’d gone out of his way to walk all the way there, told a stranger he’d decided to trust about the nightmare his life had become, and now he had nothing to show for it. He’d simply been sent away to let it continue in the hopes of getting substantial evidence the next time it happened. 

He walked back home slowly, crying silently and sniffling the whole way back. He wiped his eyes and nose at the door before walking back inside. 

The house smelled like an apple pie. The radio was on, playing softly in the background, and he could hear Mama humming along in the kitchen. Antoine was nowhere to be found. Louis relaxed as he took off his shoes and went to join Mama in the kitchen. 

“Welcome home, honey. How was the soda fountain?” Mama asked, smiling before she turned and looked at him. “Oh, Louis, you’re all red and puffy. Did someone say something to you over there? Was it one of the older boys?” 

Louis just sniffled and let Mama rush over to fawn over him and pull him close in her arms. She smelled like the pie in the oven. 

Maybe his hope wasn’t gone. Mama, of all people, would listen to him. She’d believe him and send Antoine packing, then say a prayer for him that night and be done with it. Things would go back to the way they were meant to be, with him as the man of the house who protected and helped provide for her. 

“Mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t go to the soda fountain, I went to the police station. I lied to you.” Louis confessed softly as he wrapped his arms around the woman. 

Mama pulled back but not too far, and pushed his hair back from his face. “The police? What happened?” 

“Uncle Antoine hurt me, Mama. He came into my bedroom one night while you were sleeping almost a month ago.” Louis said softly, doing his best to look the woman in the eye as he cried and recounted the scene once again. 

Mama looked distressed, to say the least. When he sobbed, she pulled him close once again and held his head against her shoulder so he could weep into the bodice of her house dress. 

“Louis, I know how hard it must be for you. Being a teenager is hard enough as it is, and boys your age really need a father around to help guide them.” She finally said when she started to speak again. “When Antoine moved in, shortly after your father passed, I was hoping the integration would be seamless. There was a hole left in your heart that day and I’d hoped Antoine would fill it. But you two never connected the way I’d hoped you would. Maybe it was foolish of me to think the bond between a father and his only son was ever something that could be perfectly replicated, especially when you barely knew your uncle even when your father was alive. 

“Louis, I know how much you want your dad, and I know I can’t make you think of Antoine as your father. But, darling, you can’t say things like that.” 

Louis blinked at the words and frowned. “What?” 

“Antoine’s not that kind of man, and you might not see him as a father, but you can’t make inflammatory accusations like that, either,” Mama said. 

“He’s not what kind of man?” Louis pressed. 

“Louis.” 

“What do you mean, Mama?”

“Antoine is not a rapist, and better yet, he’s not a homosexual,” Mama said firmly. “You’re almost fourteen years old, the childish nonsense stops now, alright?” 

Louis fell quiet and just nodded, deciding against fighting the issue any further. 

“Good boy. Now come, the pie’s just about done.” Mama hummed. 

Louis never went back to the police or brought up the topic of Antoine to Mama again. The only person he relayed any information to was Chummy, who went through great and increasingly artistic ways to convey through letters just how angry he was on his best friend’s behalf. For a couple years, nothing changed. 

Then, Louis’ apprenticeship at the radio station ended and he was offered a position as an evening and night time junior host. The shift would have him working from four to midnight on weekdays. Mama wasn’t thrilled about him missing dinner, but if Louis had a ticket out of Antoine’s clutches, he was going to take it and run. 

He spent his shifts working with an older host. The first hour of each broadcast was spent in a special Cajun language section, with the two of them briefly going over current events on the local, national, and global scale. The rest of the time was spent in English, talking and playing music. Louis was always tired when he rode his bike home, but usually, Antoine had gone to bed by the time he arrived home. 

After a while, he got used to the new schedule. Fridays around 12:30 became his designated time with Chummy, who would sneak over to his house and the two of them would sit in the yard outside his bedroom. They would talk quietly and try to keep their laughter soft to make sure they didn’t wake up anyone inside. 

In a year, when they were both fifteen, Chummy had started to court someone, and Louis still didn’t care enough to follow suit. 

“I’m telling you, Lou, I can’t go anywhere with Camille alone. We’re always chaperoned. And I mean always. It’s suffocating me.” Chummy groaned one night as he leaned back in the grass. 

“Then don’t court women,” Louis replied with a small smile. 

“Says the social recluse.” Chummy shot back, gently giving his shoulder a shove. “I’m serious, though. We can’t even hold hands without invoking the wrath of God or something. I’m dying.” 

Louis smiled and laughed as he leaned back on his elbows on the grass. Then he smiled wider. 

“Say, I have a good idea, then.” He hummed, looking over at his best friend over the top frames of his glasses. “We’re a couple of hot-blooded American men, right? But, we need to maintain a certain image in public. That is to say, we need to be chaste gentlemen at all times in polite society. So, why don’t we let out some of those - let’s call them - ‘urges’ on each other?” 

Chummy cocked an eyebrow at that and looked down at his smiling friend. “How do you mean?” 

“Hold my hand. Kiss me. That way, you won’t accidentally go too far with your lady friend.” Louis replied easily. “Then she can tell all her friends that she finally found a man who ‘gets it’ and you can keep her for longer. Her parents will adore you, and soon enough they’ll let you marry her and you won’t need to worry about it anymore.” 

Chummy seemed to consider the idea. Something in his eyes seemed to soften as he looked down at Louis and Louis smiled wider, knowing he had him. 

“Alright.” Chummy agreed. Then, he made the first move by leaning over Louis and covering his mouth with his own. 

Louis had missed the feeling of Chummy’s lips on his own. Then Chummy had his hands on his face, holding him in place and he could have died happy right then and there. No man would have taken such an offer if there wasn’t some underlying desire already. Chummy definitely wouldn’t have kissed him like that if he didn’t already want him. 

Louis laid back and wrapped his arms around Chummy tightly to hold the other boy close. 

The two of them stayed like that for a good while, losing track of time as they kissed under the stars. 

“It’s getting pretty late, Lou. I should head out before the sun comes up.” Chummy finally said, climbing off of his best friend’s lap. 

“It’s not that late, is it?” Louis asked, sitting up and fixing his hair. 

“It probably is. But I’ll see you later, alright?” Chummy’s said, standing up and helping Louis to his feet as well. “You need any help climbing back through your window? Or can your skinny ass do it on your own?” 

“I can manage it on my own,” Louis replied, brushing himself off. “Wait, before you go.”

“What?” Chummy asked as Louis grabbed his wrist.

“One more? For the road.” Louis asked with a wide grin. 

“You’ll be the death of me, Lefebvre, I swear.” Chummy laughed before pulling Louis back in for one last warm and lingering kiss. 

Louis let him go after that and watched Chummy sneak out of the yard and out of sight before turning to his window. He hoisted himself up on the sill and shimmied through it head-first, slowly easing himself to the floor so he wouldn’t make too much noise coming back inside. He then slid the window shut and started to work on finally getting ready for bed. 


	6. Chapter 6

Louis Lefebvre had met Chummy Walker completely on accident. Louis had been walking with Mama one moment, then got distracted by a dog that seemed obscenely large at the time. He should have been holding onto Mama’s hand instead of her skirt, that could easily slip out of his small hand. 

The next thing the five-year-old boy had known, he was alone in a neighborhood that looked huge and foreign with no Mama in sight. Naturally, he started to cry, which only inhibited his vision further. 

The first person to respond to his tears had been another little boy. 

“Hello.” He’d said politely. “Why’re you crying?” 

“I lost my Mama.” Louis sniffled, letting the other boy pull him into a tight hug. 

“We’ll find her! My name’s Johnny. What’s yours?” The other boy said. 

Louis could only half hear through the sound of himself crying and sniffling. “Chummy? That’s a good name.” he’d replied. “I’m Louis.” 

Chummy never corrected him. Instead, he smiled and dried his tears for him before taking him by the hand as they started their hunt for Mama. 

She ended up not being more than a couple blocks away, looking for her son near their house. When they were reunited, she was crying and clutched him tight against her chest. She hugged Chummy as well, and thanked him for helping Louis out. 

Louis didn’t have much luck making a lot of friends with the other boys in school. For a while, the other kids thought he was stupid for not being able to read the letters on the blackboard. They got a bit more friendly when he finally got glasses, though never to the point where he could really call them his friends. 

So, Louis would often find himself at Chummy’s house or Chummy would find himself at his. They never once fought over anything. The pair could have virtually been mistaken as brothers. 

The boys came of age in the summer of 1918. At the time, the only things either of them wanted were their own homes and the independence and space that came along with them. Louis was the closest to being able to get such a thing. 

Mama wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea, but Antoine pressed on for him. Young men needed their independence, he’d claimed. If Louis got his own little place, it would make him grow stronger and more independent. Then, things like marriage and fatherhood would follow. No woman would want to marry a boy and it would be hard for him to fully become a man while he still lived with his Mama. Though, until she was completely on board, Louis didn’t mind living so close to Chummy.

That particular night in July saw the two of them grinning and dancing together to the sound of jazz music that wafted out of a neighbor’s window and trying not to laugh too loud. Louis had one hand on Chummy’s shoulder and the other holding his hand. Chummy’s freehand held his waist securely as they both tried their best to remember how to waltz and tried to figure out how to waltz to jazz music. 

Soon enough, their attempt at a structured dance turned to simple swaying in each other’s arms. Louis pressed his forehead to Chummy’s, grinning from ear to ear. 

When the song ended on the neighbor’s radio, Chummy kissed Louis warmly on the mouth, making him hum in appreciation. 

“It’s getting late, Lou. I should head home.” Chummy whispered against his best friend’s lips.

“I’ll walk you back. It’s safer that way.” Louis replied, stealing one more kiss. 

“You scared that Axeman is going to get me?” Chummy’s teased with a grin of his own, pinching Louis’ waist. 

“Of course I am. He’s a man going around and killing people with an ax. I think I have the right to be worried about you.” Louis replied. 

“Fair enough.” Chummy hummed. “I wonder what sort of things a person has to go through to want to kill another person.” 

Louis hummed in response, letting go of Chummy so they could walk back to his home together. “Probably nothing very good.” He said simply. 

He told Chummy everything, but there were a few things he’d prefer to keep to himself. Maybe the Axeman had been raped by a trusted adult, too. Maybe he was ashamed of being in love with his best friend, or felt like he was broken because of it. Perhaps he felt like he had no control over his own life, and decided the only way to gain autonomy again was through force. 

Louis wouldn’t mention his frequent urges to hurt his uncle Antoine. He wouldn’t mention the past couple of times the man had slipped into his bedroom again, and he definitely wouldn’t mention the growing rage that seemed to burn at the pit of his stomach whenever he saw the man. He wouldn’t mention how he’d been thinking lately about how much better his life would be if Antoine weren’t in it anymore. 

Instead he just smiled and walked by his friend down the lamp-lit street. They got about a block away when he noticed an automobile trailing behind them, as if trying to follow them. 

“That cat’s following us. Why’s it doing that?” Louis asked quietly. 

“I don’t know. It usually doesn’t happen to men. Maybe they think you’re a girl with short hair.” Chummy replied, smiling and poking his side. 

“Shut up,” Louis said with a small smile, checking over his shoulder for the car, only to see it speed up just enough to get ahead of them and then stop. 

“Chummy, something’s wrong.” He whispered, holding onto his friend’s hand. 

“Hey, you! I know you’re the one who was looking at my Camille funny.” The man in the passenger seat shouted. 

“Chummy?” Louis frowned.

“Go back home, Lou. Run.” Chummy said softly.

“What? No. We stick together.” Louis replied, looking back at the car and trying to understand what he was seeing through the dark.

In the passenger seat of the car was a white man who didn’t look too much older than them, holding a hunting rifle. He had it trained on Chummy, like he was trying to shoot a deer. Then, just before Louis could try to grab his friend and pull him away to hide behind the houses and run back to his, the gun went off with a loud crack that made his ears ring. 

Chummy stumbled backward and collapsed against Louis, who caught him reflexively. He wrapped an arm around the other’s chest, only to feel how warm and wet it was all of a sudden. 

“Stay with me, Chummy. I’ll get help. You’ll be okay.” Louis said frantically, as the light in the houses behind them came on and the homeowners started moving about to find the source of the gunshot that had woken them up. 

“Stay here.” Chummy replied, reaching up to grip Louis’ arm tightly. 

“Somebody help! Call an ambulance!” Louis screamed as loud as he could before settling down on the ground as he held Chummy in his arms. He did what he could to try and keep Chummy upright while holding down on the wound tightly in an effort to stop the bleeding. 

“Stay with me. Stay with me, please.” Louis whispered, knocking his head against Chummy’s. 

“She was some pretty white girl. I shouldn’t have looked for as long as I did.” Chummy confessed, keeping a hold on Louis’ arm. 

“All you did was look. There’s no sin in having eyes.” Louis shook his head. 

Chummy’s breaths were getting more and more labored. 

“I love you, Chummy,” Louis said softly when it finally hit him that he might not get the chance to say it if he waited any longer. 

“I love you, too, Lou.” Chummy replied quietly, leaning up and craning his neck to catch his lips in a soft kiss. “You’ll tell my family I love them, right?” 

“I will. I promise I will.” Louis replied with a sniffle. He then proceeded to kiss Chummy again and again, wanting to get as many in as he could. After a few, Chummy stopped returning them.

Louis pulled back and held the limp body close in his arms, sitting on the pavement of the sidewalk until an ambulance and a couple police cars pulled up, sirens blaring and lights flashing. 

Everything else seemed to happen in a blur. Someone had pulled Chummy out of his arms to check his pulse, and then the time, leaving him sitting on the ground in a daze of disbelief.

“Young man? We’ll need to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.” A police officer said, crouching down next to him. 

“Will he be okay? He’s going to wake up, right?” Louis whispered, looking over at the officer. 

The police officer frowned and just shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

Louis felt like his entire mind and body went numb. Another officer eventually helped him to his feet and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders before guiding him into the back of the police car. 

Chummy was dead. One minute he was there and the next he was gone and there was nothing he could do about it to change that. It hardly felt real. It felt like an ongoing nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from. 

Louis kept the shock blanket on when they arrived at the station and he was let out of the car to follow the police officers inside. 

“Lefebvre, was it? Good to see you again.” One of the officers inside said. 

Louis looked up at him quizzically, then at his name tag, and put the pieces of the simple puzzle together. It had only been a few years, but Officer Donaldson had seemed to age many more. He quietly wondered if the officer would be useful this time around. 

“I’d rather us not meet under these circumstances,” Louis replied with a yawn. 

The officer nodded and sighed. “I understand completely. But, such is the nature of this job. We’ll just need a statement from you, since you’re our main witness. Then, you’re free to head home to your family.” 

Louis had almost forgotten about Mama and Uncle Antoine. They were bound to figure out that he’d been out of bed and with Chummy when he wasn’t supposed to. They likely wouldn’t be super happy about it, either.

“Alright,” Louis said to the officer, sitting down with him at his desk. 

“Alright, explain your me what happened, from the beginning.” Officer Donaldson said when he had his pen and ink at the ready. 

“I got home from work a bit after midnight. My best friend since childhood always comes over after work on Fridays and we use the time to catch up and talk without our parents listening in.” Louis started. 

“What’s his name?” Officer Donaldson asked. 

“Johnny Walker. I always called him Chummy.” Louis supplied. “Anyways, we talked a while until we decided we were tired. I wanted to walk him home, just to be safe with that Axeman running about. He doesn’t live that far from me, so I figured it would be fine. A car started trailing us filled with a few boys about our age. One of them yelled at Chummy to think twice before looking at his girl. Then he pulled out a hunting rifle and shot him and they drove away while he died in my arms.” 

The officer nodded and jotted everything down. “Can you describe the shooter for me?”

“Well, gee, it was pretty dark out so I didn’t get the best look at the guy. But he was white. I think his hair was reddish or brown. It was kind of curly. He was the passenger in the car, but I didn’t see the driver or anyone else very well.” 

“Did you happen to get the license plate of the car?” The officer asked. 

“No, I was more focused on my best friend dying in my arms,” Louis said impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the officer over the tops of his glasses. 

“Well, maybe someone else caught it. We’ll ask around.” Officer Donaldson replied with a small sigh. “Do you want me to call your family to come get you?” 

“You’d might as well,” Louis replied with a small sigh, pushing his fingers through his bangs. The sooner he could be left alone, the better. He felt bad for not being a mess of tears. He ought to be wailing by now, but all he could feel was an all-encompassing numbness. 

Louis sat in silence with the blanket held tight over his shoulders as he waited in the police station. He had no idea how much time had passed or when Officer Donaldson had returned from the phone. He couldn’t be sure if the man had said something to him or not after the call. If he was polite, he would ask to double-check. However, he was too tired and simply didn’t care about Officer Donaldson enough to go out of his way to be polite. He’d told the man what he knew. He’d done his job, now he just had to wait and see if the officer would do his for once. 

At some point, Mama came into the station in a worried rush, her coat wrapped securely over a dressing robe, and her hair still pinned in curls. 

“ChouChou,” She gasped, rushing over to him and pulling him into her arms and snapping him out of his trance. She smelled like her perfume. 

“Mama,” Louis replied, hugging her back tightly and letting her guide him to his feet. 

“The officer told us everything. Come, Antoine’s in the car. We’ll go home and I’ll make you some warm milk.” Mama offered. “Poor dear. Poor, poor, dear.” 

Louis simply nodded and let her take the blanket from his shoulders, fold it up, wave to the officer, and gently usher him out to the Detroiter. 

Mama kept close to him even in the car, holding him tight in her arms and stroking his hair. Louis leaned into her as she cooed over him. 

“We’ll pray for him and his family when we get home,” Mama said softly, putting her head on top of his. 

“We’re lucky you weren’t hurt, too.” Antoine provided from the front seat.

“Yes, we are.” Mama agreed. “Here, ChouChou, take your shirt off. You don’t need to be covered in blood in the car and I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable.”

Louis had almost forgotten the large bloodstain on the front of his otherwise white shirt. He wondered how he’d forgotten it when it was still wet and clung to his union suit underneath. That was probably stained to high Heaven, too. He said nothing and pulled away from Mama just enough to slip the suspenders off his shoulders, untie the bow tie around his neck, untuck his shirt from his pants, then unbutton it and slip it off. He fiddled up the soiled shirt and held it in his lap until they got home.

“I’ll get the milk ready, you take a bath, dear,” Mama said as Antoine unlocked the door and they followed him into the house.

Louis felt Antoine set a hand on his shoulder as he walked by and quickly jerked it away, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Once inside, he went to his room to gather his nightshirt and a clean pair of drawers and slipped into the bathroom to run the bath, making the water as hot as he could as he stripped down the rest of the way. 

The water was almost too hot. The way it scalded him made him start to snap back to reality as he sank down slowly into the bath, letting it shock his system at first before it relaxed him. He used the water to wash down his body, then his hair. Mama’s Canthrox shampoo got into his eyes, making them finally start to water up. 

Louis’ hands went to his eyes instinctively. He gritted his teeth and balled a fist, slamming it down on the side of the porcelain tub. Of all damned things to make him cry, it had to be a bit of shampoo in his eye. He should have been bawling already for Chummy. It wasn’t right for him to do anything other than mourn loudly. 

Louis groaned and leaned back in the tub, pushing his wet bangs back from his face. “I’m sorry, Chummy,” he said softly, looking up at the ceiling. 

He stayed in the tub a bit longer before climbing out and patting himself dry with the towel. He got dressed and combed his wet hair away from his face before draining the tub. 

Mama had a cup of warm milk ready when he emerged from the bathroom. She held him while he drank it and brushed his hair in an attempt to find something that might comfort him. He bowed his head and sat quietly with his hands folded as Mama prayed for Chummy and the Walker family. When he went to bed, she tucked him in like she always had as a child. 

Louis could still feel Chummy’s kisses on his lips. Part of him wanted to stay awake, to try and fight the possibility that he might forget them. He couldn’t cry, so the least he could do was remember absolutely everything. 

In the morning, he slept in a while before getting up, getting dressed, and leaving the house, telling Antoine and Mama he needed air. It was almost amazing how the city seemed perfectly happy to keep it’s usual hustle and bustle, despite the events of the night before. It seemed like the streets ought to be quiet and still, out of respect. 

He wandered aimlessly a while until he found himself across the street from the voodoo shop. He stood and stared at the door, wondering if he even wanted to bother. He knew the old woman would at least listen to the majority of whatever he wanted to dump on her. Of course, she would refuse to call him by his name, which was annoying. He didn’t know who else he’d dump everything on, though. The old woman was just enough of an outsider in his life for it not to matter if he told her he’d fallen for his best friend. She might not give him enough respect to call him by his name, but she’d give him enough respect to listen and at least pretend to see and hear him. 

He checked both ways for automobiles before crossing the street and walking over to the wooden door of the shop. For whatever reason, he vaguely hoped it would be locked. It opened without any resistance. 

The store didn’t seem to have changed a bit. Everything was just as he remembered, from the masks on the wall that seemed to stare through him and the candles and dolls packed along shelves on the walls. The old woman was lighting a candle when he walked in, the wind from the outside snuffing out her match. 

The old woman frowned and looked over at him in silence for a moment. 

“I was wondering if you’d ever be back.” She hummed, setting the match aside to get a new one. “What brings you back to my door, Alastor?”

“You’re the only person I could think of who would hear me out unconditionally.” He replied honestly, taking the matches from her and lighting one before lighting the candle with the flame. 

“Your voice has changed.” The woman observed with a small smile. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

“I grew up, I suppose,” Louis said with a shrug. “Two or three fingers of whiskey if you have any. Otherwise, black coffee is fine.” 

“Well, I meant your accent.” The woman hummed with a small smile. “It’s a little early to drink. But I have coffee left for you. Go ahead and take a seat. If you want to light the candles on the table, too, that would be lovely.” 

Louis nodded and walked over to the little wooden table that was set with candles, the usual tarot cards tucked away in a small box. He lit the three candles on the table before sitting down. 

“I work in radio,” Louis said when the woman returned with a small white cup of hot coffee. “That’s why I have an accent. They train us to speak like this. I suppose it just comes naturally now.” 

“That makes sense.” The woman said as she sat down on the other side of the table. “Now, you wanted to talk. What about?” 

“I saw my best friend in the world get shot and killed last night. He died in my arms and I still haven’t cried for him. I’ve been in love with him since I was twelve or thirteen. He was the first and only person I’ve ever loved like that. He was the first person to ever hold or kiss me like that. I saw the light fade from his eyes last night. And I still can’t cry for him. I just feel numb. It’s like I’m empty and I can’t even cry because he took every last tear with him when he left.” Louis said, staring down at the dark coffee in his cup. “It’s hard to believe he’s really gone. It feels too sudden. One moment he was there, then he wasn’t.

“When he was holding me, everything seemed easy. When things were hard, I could tell him and he’d give me the strength to march on. I could tell him everything. He took all of me in stride and now he’s just gone. He listened to me no matter what I was saying. He really saw me. I barely had to wear a mask for him. I feel like I have to pretend to be someone else completely to keep people happy with me.” 

The old woman sat quietly and listened as he spoke. 

“Everyone grieves in different ways. Just because you’re not crying doesn’t mean you’re not mourning.” She said when he went quiet, reaching over to put a hand on his. Louis pulled away from the touch. 

Louis sighed a bit and sipped his coffee. “I wish I could just cry a lot, get it all out, and be able to continue.” he thought aloud. “In two days I’ll have to go back to work and act like everything’s fine.” 

What had Lawrence said once about pretending to be strong? If he smiled he could fool the world, and eventually, he’d fool himself too. 

He decided to try it for once, wondering if it might work even if the woman in front of him was blind. At the very least, it might make him feel better.

He stretched his mouth into a wide smile, grinning like he was getting a photograph taken. Maybe he could get through it. He’d have to fake it for a while, sure, but eventually, things would have to get easier. 

“I think I’ll find a way to be fine, actually. Thank you for the conversation and coffee.” Louis said, finishing off his cup and getting up from the table. 

The woman looked at him quizzically and grabbed his wrist. “Alastor, what about the seed?” 

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t we? Who knows? Perhaps Louis died with Johnny Walker last night.” Louis replied, pulling her hand off his wrist. “Have a good day. Perhaps I’ll see you again some years from now.” 

He smiled as he waved to her and saw himself out of the shop. He kept his head high, back straight, and shoulders back as he walked down the sidewalk. If he could keep acting like he was strong and confident, eventually he would be. Chummy would have wanted him to keep going on, even without him. 

He found his way to a florist to buy a bouquet of white lilies, then over to a liquor store to buy a nice bottle of gin. With the gifts in his arms, he made his way back towards the Tremé neighborhood, and down the familiar sidewalks until his feet took him all the way to the front door of the Walker house. 

He dropped the smile and shifted the flowers and alcohol to one arm to knock on the door and wait. 

It took a few moments for the door to open. Lorraine Walker’s eyes looked puffy, red, and tired. 

“Louis.” She gasped. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker,” Louis said simply. 

“Come inside. Take your shoes off.” She said, ushering him inside after checking around the street.

Louis nodded and stepped inside the house before slipping off his shoes at the door. 

“These are for you. I’m sorry, they’re rather impromptu. I didn’t prepare to buy condolence gifts.” He said, handing the flowers and the brown paper bag to the woman. 

“No one ever does, dear,” Lorraine said, taking the flowers and bag. 

When she looked inside the bag, she smiled and laughed, and simply shook her head. She led him further into the house and let him sit at the dinner table. 

“Louis Lefebvre, I’m glad you have a sense of humor, despite everything. I don’t understand it, but I’m grateful.” She hummed. “Johnny always did talk about how funny you are. He’d put on your radio show every night, you know.”

“I didn’t know that. We didn’t talk about work much.” Louis replied as he sat back in the seat. 

“I think he was proud of being friends with someone on the radio. He talked about it more than he talked about the girl he was courting.” Lorraine said, getting down a couple of glasses. “Do you want some of this gin, dear?” 

“Ah, sure. Thank you, Ma’am.” He replied. He took the glass after she poured about two fingers of gin into it. They clinked their glasses together and toasted to Chummy before taking a swig. 


	7. Chapter 7

It took about a year for Mama to get comfortable with the idea of Louis moving out to live on his own. Influenza struck in September and lasted until February. Mama never let him leave the house without a mask over his face, let alone move into his own home. Even after the surge of illness had quelled, she was still wary. With Antoine’s help, he was able to buy a house in the summer and move in the fall. 

Moving came with the fun task of buying housewares and furnishing the home. The house was a little place on the outer edge of the city. It was cheaper than anything inside the city proper, and the money they saved was spent helping him get the place furnished properly. According to Mama, decorations were considered an important aspect of furnishing a home. 

“You need some sort of art on the wall, ChouChou.” She said as she looked for decorative art prints that could be framed and hung. “It’ll keep the place from feeling too big and empty.” 

“He could always get a dog. That’ll keep it from feeling too empty, too.” Antoine commented as he stood with them in the little store.

“Absolutely not,” Louis said shortly. 

“Oh, Louis hasn’t liked dogs since he was little. When he was three or four or so a rottweiler bit his leg.” Mama explained. “He hasn’t liked them since.” 

“Ah, that’ll do it.” Antoine hummed, gently nudging Louis with an elbow. “Maybe a cat, then. A lot of ladies love cats, you know.” 

“His goal is to court a woman to find a wife, not lure them back to his bed,” Mama said sharply. “My son is not a lecher.” 

“I’m not really interested in any of that, anyway,” Louis said with a small smile down at his mother. 

“You see? He’s a good boy and you can’t taint him.” Mama hummed to Antoine with pride. “I raised a gentleman. Now, if only I could get him to come to church more often. I could have the perfect Catholic son.”

“Maybe whatever lady he ends up with will coax him into it,” Antoine said with a small shrug. 

“I’ll try when things settle down again,” Louis said, more to appease her than anything else. He would have rather had a private romantic dinner with Antoine than even step into a confession booth, let alone sit through an entire mass. 

“You’d better. I’ll save you a seat.” Mama hummed, patting his back. 

Louis just smiled at her and hugged the woman close to himself. When she was satisfied with the decorations they’d found for his walls, they brought them back to the new little house. Louis set the bag up against the wall, deciding he’d figure out where they would go later on that night. 

Dinner was eaten around the table in Mama’s kitchen. Louis nearly fell out of his chair laughing when Mama realized the hard way that she’d made the jambalaya much too hot for her own tastes. He was still grinning and giggling about it as he left.

“Oh, hush, you.” Mama hummed, kissing his cheeks and walking him out to the old Detroiter Antoine had given to him so he could buy a new one. “Call us, alright? Remember to eat well and get enough sleep.” 

“I know, Mama, I know. I’m nineteen years old, you know.” Louis replied. 

“I might swing by later to help you unpack and hang those pictures,” Antoine commented as Louis got into the car and started the engine. 

“Don’t feel like you have to,” Louis replied with a mirthless smile. He gave a wave to the pair before starting the drive back to his new home. 

He headed home to work on unpacking his things, pouring himself a glass of whiskey to sip and turning on his radio as he set to work on his home, starting in his bedroom. He got his bed made and the clothes put away in his closet with that, he moved on to the bathroom and continued slowly working his way through the house.

He started to hammer a nail into the wall for one of the first paintings and was cut off by the sound of rapping on the front door. He looked over towards the door in wonder, having figured any new neighbors might wait until the morning to meet him. He set the hammer aside on too of a short nearby bookshelf and went to get the door, his heart falling when he saw Antoine on the other side. 

The last thing he wanted was to be alone with the man. His house was supposed to be his haven. He was supposed to be safe now that he’d moved out. 

“Uncle Antoine. What are you doing here?” He asked, smiling softly to cover up any nervousness in his voice. 

“Figured you’d want help unpacking. Can I come in?” Antoine replied. 

Louis had half a mind to shake his head no and close the door in his face. But he couldn’t trust Antoine not to find some way to get to him and punish him. All he could do was let him in and hope this would be the last time he ever had to.

While the war was on, he’d hoped he might find a draft notice for one of them in the mail, so they could be physically separated by an ocean, but nothing of the sort ever came. If Antoine was so hell-bent on getting to him, he would. Louis was running out of hope that he’d ever find freedom and safety from the man, at least in New Orleans. 

“Sure, come in,” Louis said, his hands shaking a bit as he stepped aside to let Antoine in. 

“It really is a lovely little place.” Antoine mused as he stepped inside and took his shoes off at the door. “And the neighborhood seems pretty quiet at night. You’ll have to let me know what the neighbors are like.”

“Will do. Can I get anything to drink?” Louis asked. 

“No, I’ve had plenty already. Thanks, though.” Antoine said. 

Louis nodded and barely had time to think before Antoine had grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against the wall by the bookcase. Before he could say anything, Antoine’s mouth was on his. He tasted like alcohol and pipe tobacco. He tried to start thinking clearly again as Antoine shoved his tongue into his mouth and used a hand to start working on his belt. 

Louis had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and focus himself. The sensations were overwhelming and he could feel himself starting to panic. This couldn’t be happening, not again. Not in his own house. Not in his little haven.

Who the hell did Antoine think he was, anyway? The man had some nerve waltzing all the way to his door to go out of his way to try and have sex with him. Clearly, that was all he was good for to his uncle. Louis was nineteen now. He was bigger than he was when his Uncle had decided to turn himself into a monster. He could fight back, if he wanted to. He could stop all of this right now, kick Antoine out, and just go to bed. It was his house. 

Antoine had gotten away with torturing him for too long, anyways. He hadn’t seen any punishment from Mama or the law or even God for his actions. Louis could do it himself. 

Louis felt the rage building up more and more as Antoine slipped a hand down his pants and slid it against his thigh before grabbing his ass through his union suit. He was an adult. He had a job, he paid taxes, he voted, and now he owned a home. And yet, Antoine still didn’t want to respect him enough to leave him the hell alone. 

Alastor would have made him respect him. Alastor would fight back, show the awful bastard just how strong he was, and put an end to the torture once and for all. Louis had been small and weak and frightened of the world. Louis had died the night Chummy did. It was time to finally put him to rest. He was an adult now, anyways. He had to be a man, and a man wouldn’t let his creepy uncle use him like a cheap whore.

Louis cracked an eye open while Antoine was kissing him and grunted in protest when the man ground into him, hard. He watched the other man as he bit down on Antoine’s tongue as hard as he could, tasting the blood flooding into his mouth. He swallowed as Antoine backed away. 

Antoine seemed shocked by the bite. “You ungrateful little wretch.” He spat after gathering himself again. He raised a hand and brought it down hard across Louis’ cheek. 

“I gave you everything you have and this is how repay me?” He barked before grabbing Louis by the neck and pushing him back against the wall. 

Louis felt his eyes go wide as he felt a thumb press into his windpipe. He hadn’t actually considered the idea that Antoine could physically overpower him and kill him. He wasn’t about to be murdered, especially by the man who’d slipped into their home, stolen his late father’s rightful spot next to Mama, and then proceeded to violate him, as if he deserved it. If he was ever killed, he’d be killed by someone he respected. 

Louis gritted his teeth together and reached over to the hammer sitting nearby on the bookshelf. When he had his hand wrapped around the handle, he swung the thing around and brought it down on Antoine’s head with as much strength as he could muster. He hit him again and again and again until Antoine went limp against him and slumped to the floor with a loud thud. 

Louis took a few deep breaths to focus himself again and fastened his bet before crouching down next to Antoine. 

“Uncle Antoine?” he asked softly, having only meant to knock the man out cold. There was a small puddle of blood forming underneath his head. 

Louis moved slowly to put a hand in front of his uncle’s face, then frowned and put two fingers on his neck to take his pulse. Nothing and nothing. Louis’ eyes went wide in realization and he fell backward onto the floor. 

Antoine was dead and he’d killed him. Antoine had been trying to rape him again and he’d killed him. Somehow, he’d had the strength to take another life. What happened now? He’d never considered murder to be a possibility and had no semblance of a plan. 

He had to do something with the body, right? If he called the police, they’d know he killed him and he’d be taken to prison. He knew for a fact that he wouldn’t last more than a week in a prison, regardless of whether or not he got the death penalty. He definitely had to do something with the body. He could move quickly and keep the cover of night on his side. 

His heart was racing as he scrambled to his feet to get an old bed sheet out of a box he hadn’t unpacked yet. He quickly wrapped the body up in the makeshift sack. He would clean the floor and the hammer later when he got back home. Until he came back, he was working against the clock. 

The sack was heavier than anything he’d carried on his back before, but he managed to tug it out to the Detroiter, hide it on the floor, and climb into the front seat. His heart kept racing and beating hard in his ears, but he made sure to drive carefully out of the city limits. 

Due west was a bayou. Mama had taken him once as a child in an effort to teach him about the world outside their city. If he could remember where it was, he could leave Antoine in the water as alligator food and be done with it. If anyone asked him, he’d say he’d never seen his uncle that night. They could write it off as a regular disappearance and go on about their lives. 

Louis drove and drove until he found the edge of a dark lake surrounded by trees and a few little houses with rowboats. He parked the car and lugged the body out from his car and headed for one of the boats. He put Antoine in a boat and climbed in as well, pushing off from land with one of the oars.

Keeping an eye on the edge of the lake, he rowed out towards the center, where the water was presumably the deepest. From there, he did his best to push Antoine’s body out of the little boat, and into the lake with a splash. 

The shift in weight sent the little boat rocking dangerously and Louis grabbed the oars to make sure they didn't get lost. Soon enough the boat settled again, and Louis wasted no more time rowing back to the shore. He didn’t relax until his feet hit solid ground. He looked back out towards the lake and took a deep breath again. 

“See you hell, Uncle Antoine.” He breathed. 

When he got back to the Detroiter, he was smiling. He’d never imagined such a horrible thing could bring such a rush. He wondered if that wonderful feeling was why so many people found themselves in opium dens so often. If so, he could understand it. 

He’d done it. He’d gotten rid of the biggest monster in his life and he’d done it all by himself. Antoine was gone forever. He’d never be back to touch him for too long or look at his Mama like she was his wife. He’d never force his way into his bed again. He’d done it all by himself. He was strong enough to take the reins back on his life by force. 

He was still grinning as he drove back into the city and down the street that led to his house. He’d forgotten to lock the door on his way out. He’d have to be careful about that, he had no idea what kind of people his neighbors were. 

Louis spent a good amount of time scrubbing his floor and hammer to get rid of any trace of blood or Antoine at all. When that was all done, the radio was still playing, and his glass of whiskey was still sitting where he’d left it. He picked the glass up again and sat at his little kitchen table, sipping it contently as he relaxed. 

He’d condemned himself that night. He’d killed a man in cold blood, he was almost certain there was no coming back from that. No matter how much he begged and pleaded to God, he’d end up in Hell. He had nothing else to lose anymore. He could make sure no one ever disrespected him ever again. 

Louis finished off his whiskey and moved to shut the radio off and slowly work on crawling into bed for the first night in his new home. Mama would notice Antoine’s absence eventually and get worried. She’d more than likely ask him about his uncle first and he’d have to spend the day sitting by her side and comforting her. The only one who would miss Antoine was Mama, and she’d get over it. 

In the morning, Louis was woken up to the sound of his telephone ringing incessantly in the hallway. He rubbed his eyes and pushed his glasses on, suddenly waking up further as he realized the call could easily be from the police. He could have been caught not even twenty-four hours after his crime. 

He briefly considered not answering the phone. However, if it was the police and he didn’t answer, it might give them a reason to believe he was evading them intentionally. If he wanted them to believe he had nothing to hide, then he’d have to act like it. 

His heart was pounding in his chest as he approached the telephone on its stand in the hallway. He swallowed before picking up the earpiece and holding it to his ear. “Lefebvre residence,” he answered, doing what he could to sound as nonchalant and normal as possible. 

“ChouChou!” The voice on the other end replied. 

Louis set a hand over his heart in relief. 

“Have you seen your uncle? I haven’t seen him at all since last night. His car is still here, but he’s nowhere around the house.” Mama worried. 

“No, I thought he was with you. I haven’t seen him at all.” Louis did his best to sound concerned. “Maybe he’s just gone on a walk? It’s lovely out right now, maybe he just wanted a bit of fresh air, especially after how hectic yesterday was.” 

Mama hummed in consideration. “You’re right. I’m probably overreacting.” 

“Maybe you ought to get some air, too. You seem rather stressed.” Louis suggested with a small smile. 

Mama laughed softly. “You’re right, you’re right. I do need to relax, don’t I? Let’s talk about something else, then. How was your first night in your own home?” 

Louis was more than relieved when the subject shifted. It would give him more time to prepare himself for when Mama eventually realized Antoine wouldn’t be coming back for breakfast. 

“It was nice. This neighborhood is nice and quiet, so I didn’t have much trouble falling asleep at all.” Louis replied, smiling as he spoke. “Of course, I missed you.” 

“You’re a flatterer, ChouChou.” Mama laughed. “I’ll let you go to make yourself some breakfast. Stay safe, though, alright? I have a bad feeling in my gut about this.” 

“I will, Mama, don’t worry,” Louis replied before saying his goodbyes and hanging up the phone to head to his kitchen and start work on his breakfast. 

He spent the rest of the morning and until around noon finishing unpacking everything he needed for his home. A few neighbors came by to welcome him into the fold of the neighborhood. For the first few hours of the day, everything was perfectly normal. Then, around noon, the phone started to ring again, just as Louis had started to relax into the feeling that he might have gotten away with murder. 

The phone ringing kick-started his pulse once again and he found his hand shaking as he went to the phone to answer it. He swallowed again and painted on a smile before lifting the earpiece. “Lefebvre residence.” 

“ChouChou, can you come over here? Antoine still hasn’t shown, and I’m getting rather scared. Something might have happened to him, and I want to report it to the police, but I don’t want to do it alone.” Mama asked, her voice sounding weak as she spoke as if she was afraid to talk too loudly. “I’m sorry, darling. I know it must be terribly inconvenient, but I’m scared. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 

Louis bit his lip. At least, if he went with his mother and acted equally distressed, it might erase any doubt that might be had about him or his involvement in his uncle’s disappearance. 

“Alright, Mama. I’ll put my shoes on and head over right now.” He replied. 

“Thank you, ChouChou. I love you.” She sighed. 

“I love you, too, Mama. See you in a few minutes, alright?” Louis replied. 

“Alright,” Mama replied before hanging up the phone. 

Louis ran his fingers through his hair and made sure his glasses, bowtie, and suspenders were all straight. The more put-together he looked, the less likely they were to suspect that he was anything other than a normal young man. He pulled on his shoes and locked his door behind him on his way out to the Detroiter. 

Mama was beside herself, pacing about the living room when Louis arrived. She hung onto him as he brought her to the police station and kept a hold on his arm as they reported Antoine as a missing person. He kept close to her to comfort the woman as she nervously fiddled with her gloves or his sleeve while she spoke with the police officer. 

“We’ll start a lookout for a man that looks like him.” The officer promised after Mama gave him a relatively recent photograph of Antoine for reference. “Young man?”

Louis blinked when he was addressed, and immediately wondered if he was about to be questioned on his uncle’s disappearance. “Yes, Officer?” 

“Keep an eye on your mother and keep her safe. These are strange times we’re living in.” The officer advised.

Louis nodded and smiled softly. “And only getting stranger. I’ll keep her away from harm, don’t you worry.” 

“My boy’s stronger than he lets on.” Mama hummed with pride, reaching up to push his bangs back from his face for him. 

Louis just kept smiling despite the sudden rush of annoyance the comment gave him. He ushered Mama out of the police station, letting her keep close against him as they walked back to his car. 

“Louis, I’m scared. What if something’s happened to him? What if he never comes back?” Mama worried as she settled into the car, putting her hand over his before he could start the engine.

“It’ll be alright, Mama. Just hope for the best. If we get the worst, we’ll find a way to deal with it. That’s all we really can do.” Louis said, turning his hand over to hold his mother’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally, I'd wanted to write a bit more about the Spanish Influenza, but I think God/Jesus/the Holy Ghost came to me to tell me that was a bad idea


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to take literal eons to finish, but I got a temp job, then I got laid off from it, then I got another temp job, then I got laid off from that one so I guess it's unemployment time again.

Mama was beside herself. Louis stayed by her side, bringing her a cup of tea as she sat across from one of the two police officers in her living room. The officers had decided it was pertinent to talk to the two of them about Antoine to help their hunt for him. 

“So, about when was the last time you saw Antoine Lefebvre, then?” one of the officers asked her. 

“Oh, I’d just said goodnight to him. It must have been around ten at night when I went to bed. He said he’d be a little bit and not to wait up for him. When I woke up this morning, he was nowhere.” Mama said with a frown. 

“Is he usually a night owl? Or does he tend to have a set sleep schedule?” the officer asked while the other jotted down notes. 

“He has a schedule on weekdays when he has to work the next morning, but on the weekends, he likes to stay up later. He’ll usually have the radio on and have a drink or smoke his pipe and just relax for a good long while.” Mama said. 

“Would he have any reason to have left the house last night? Maybe to go to a jazz or a gentlemen’s club?” The officer asked. 

“Well, the car never left the driveway. He usually drives everywhere. I don’t know why he’d take a trolley car to a place like that. He’s not really the type to go out and drink a lot.” Mama said. 

The officer nodded and glanced over at Louis at her side. “Alright. Do you mind if you talk to your boy, then?” 

Louis looked over at him quickly at the question, then back at Mama. For whatever reason, he hadn’t considered the idea that he might be questioned. He figured all he had to do was make sure the officers had no reason to believe he was capable of murdering his uncle. 

“Well, I don’t mind. But you ought to take that up with him. He’s practically a man in his own right.” Mama said, patting Louis’ thigh with a small smile. 

“‘Practically,’ ‘In my own right?’ Mama, you wound me.” Louis said with a smile back at her before turning to the officer. “We can talk. Would you prefer inside or outside?” 

“Let’s talk privately, just to be safe.” the officer decided after a moment. 

Louis nodded and got up to lead the officer out to talk in private on the small front porch of the house. 

“It’s Louis, right?” the officer asked as Louis stayed standing, leaning against the railing of the porch. 

“That’s right,” Louis replied. 

“So, tell me about your uncle. Were you two very close or was he more distant?” the officer asked. 

“I never cared for him very much, honestly, officer. I lost my father when I was very young and Antoine came in to fill the spot as quickly as it was vacated. I can’t remember my father very well, but Antoine never fit the role quite right. He was always my uncle, never my father.” Louis explained. 

“He felt more like an interloper than family, is that right?” The officer asked. 

“Exactly right.” Louis nodded. 

“We have an old report from you on file where you claimed he assa-”

“I know the one,” Louis said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well, given your, erm, history with Antoine, is it safe to say that you’re not very troubled by his disappearance?” 

“Look,” Louis said, glancing off to either side. The houses on their street were close together. A neighbor might be listening in from a window or from their porch. “Ask me any other questions about my uncle, but don’t ask me about the details of my personal relationship with him.”

The officers went quiet for a moment before one of them cleared his throat. “Look, Mr. Lefebvre, a good man is missing. He could quite possibly be dead. It’s in your best interest to help us turn over every leaf we need to.” 

“Am I a suspect, Officer?” Louis asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, you are. Now, will you cooperate?” 

Louis wanted so badly to say no, but he knew full well he was toeing the line as it was. If he wanted to get away with murder, he would need to convince the police officers that he was innocent and incapable of something so atrocious. The more hostile he got, the more suspicious he was. 

“Very well.” he agreed with a small sigh before glancing over at the houses so close to his mother’s. 

His mother’s house was situated in the middle of a block lined with shotgun houses, all lined up close together to accommodate the narrow city lots. Each house had its own front porch and it would be all too easy for a particularly curious neighbor to peer out or open a window and hear everything they were saying. 

“If you need to open that file again, then fine. But I won’t be talking about it here.” He finally gave in. 

“Great, thank you. Well, then, why don’t we head inside?” the officer suggested, standing up once again. 

“No, that sort of talk will upset my mother. We can go to my home to talk, or the police station, but not here.” Louis replied. 

“Wherever you’re more comfortable.” 

Louis nodded. His home would be much more comfortable. He wondered if he had the guts to take the police officers into the home where he’d killed someone not twenty-four hours earlier. But he’d made perfectly sure to clean things thoroughly. It would be a fun addition to the rush to seat the officers a couple of feet from the hammer that had been splattered with blood the previous night. The stupid feds would never know they’re were sipping coffee in a crime scene.

“We can go to my home, then. No offense to you or your offices, but it’s not exactly a comforting space to talk about a discomforting topic.” He decided, standing up a bit straighter and smoothing down his shirt and pants. “I’ll let my mother know what’s going on and get my coat, then you can follow me back.” 

“Great.” the senior police officer said before the two of them got up to start getting their things ready. 

Louis let himself back into his mother’s house to grab his jacket from the coat hanger. “Mama, the officers and I are going to head back to my place.” 

Mama’s eyes got about as wide as dinner plates. “Why? Are you a suspect? Are they questioning you very hard?” 

“Mama, everyone’s a suspect right now, it’s still quite early in the case. We’re simply going to talk in complete privacy, and it’s nicer than an interrogation room.” Louis replied calmly. 

Mama pursed her lips. “My, whatever happened to the justice system in this country? Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” 

“That’s an ideal, Mama, and ideals are hardly ever a reality.” Louis hummed with an easy smile. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” 

Mama sighed and nodded. “I suppose I’m just stressed. The police are there for a reason, after all.” 

“Exactly. Besides, I have nothing to hide, so I have nothing to fear.” Louis hummed as he stared at himself in the little mirror next to the door, fixing his hair and glasses. For a moment he couldn’t be sure if he’d said that to his mother or himself. Perhaps both. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back, don’t stress yourself out too much, Mama. It won’t do you any favors.” 

Mama nodded and spun her son around to smooth out the lapels of his jacket. With that, she pulled him down to kiss his forehead. “You sound like your father, you know. You’re so level-headed, just like he was.” 

“Someone in this house needs to be.” Louis hummed, kissing her back on the cheek before finally slipping away and out of the house, turning his attention to the police officers with a warm smile. “Alright then, gentlemen, just follow me. It’s not far.”

Louis smiled to himself the entire drive through the streets of New Orleans, his heart hammering hard against his ribs. Soon enough, there stood his new and newly cleaned home, curtains in the windows drawn, a little square thing with the outside walls painted white. It looked just like every other house on the quiet block along the outer edge of the city. 

He stood outside it until the police cars pulled up shortly after him. He smiled as he unlocked the door and let himself and his new guests inside. 

“It smells clean in here.” One of the officers observed as Louis opened the curtains to let the light in. 

“Yes, I’d hope so. I spent the better half of last night scrubbing it all down with bleach.” Louis replied easily. “Mama’s still a little nervous about any sort of third wave of Influenza lurking in the shadows, you see. I’d prefer her to be comfortable when she comes over.” 

“Ah, I know the feeling. My own wife developed a habit of sanitizing everything, and she still hasn’t let it die yet.” One of the officers chuckled. 

“It never hurts to be prepared, though, just in case,” Louis said. “You can take a seat and get comfortable, gentlemen.” 

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Lefebvre?” the younger of the two officers asked. 

“Oh, no. There’s no one like that.” Louis replied as he slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of an armchair. “With my career and work schedule, I simply don’t have the time.”

“Well, this will be a fine place to bring a young lady back to, once you find your rhythm.” The older officer chuckled as the pair settled in on a sofa across from Louis. 

“Are you calling me some sort of floozy, officer?” Louis asked with a smile and a cock of his head. “Let it stand on the record that I was raised by a God-fearing woman. Specifically, a God-fearing woman who’d tan my hide if I ever tried to pull something like that.”

“That’s why I don’t tell my mother every detail of my own life anymore.” the younger officer laughed. 

“Speaking of your mother,” the older officer interjected. “You brought us here to speak about your uncle where she couldn’t hear.”

“Yes, sir.” Louis nodded, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s sensitive material, I’m sure you understand. A man is missing. If he isn’t dead yet, I can’t imagine it would be much longer until he is, wherever he’s been spirited away to. And I didn’t have the most friendly relationship with him like she did. Overhearing us, even on accident, would have upset her.”

“That’s understandable. We have it in our records that some years ago you filed a report on your uncle, is that right?” the older officer asked while the younger one readied his notepad and pencil. 

“Exactly right, sir.” 

“That report’s about seven years old now. Was that, um, incident between the two of you an isolated one, then?” 

“Boy, I wish,” Louis replied, laughing humorlessly. “No, I’m afraid it wasn’t. But, I was told to come back when I had substantial evidence, and you’ll have to excuse me, but I never set up a photographer by the end of my childhood bed to catch him red-handed.” 

“I see.” the older officer nodded. The younger one looked troubled by the idea but kept quiet. “So, can we assume you didn’t hold much love for Antoine, then?” 

“Well, sure. But I wanted to have nothing to do with the man. In my perfect world, I simply wouldn’t have to speak to him or deal with him again. Forgive me, but I don’t know how anyone could trust a man who does those sorts of things to a child, even later as an adult. He lost any affection I ever held for him when he put his hands on me.” Louis hummed. 

“So, when he disappeared last night, where were you?” The officer asked. 

“Well, I was here at home, unpacking and moving in and cleaning.” 

“I don’t suppose you’d have anyone who could confirm or deny that alibi, would you?”

“You could try to ask one of my neighbors, but I can’t guarantee any of them saw me or were paying any attention at all at that time of night.” 

The officer nodded and thought for a moment. “When was the last time you saw Antoine Lefebvre?”

“Yesterday afternoon.” 

“Mind explaining the scene to me?” 

“Sure, I was with my mother and my uncle. We were out at the markets looking for some sort of art to decorate these walls. When we were done, we went our separate ways so I could unpack and really move in.” 

“Which you were at until late into the night?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Was your uncle acting strangely when you were with him? Did anything seem off to you?” 

Louis hummed and feigned thought for a moment. “No, not really. I’d say he seemed just about the same as usual.”

The officer nodded as the younger one took a few more notes before the pair looked at each other as if having a silent conversation. 

Louis felt his heart pounding. Did they think he was suspicious? Had they seen through his lies completely? Were they going to handcuff him and throw him into jail to rot? Had he said something wrong and blew his cover wide open? Could they see his fear in his eyes?

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Lefebvre.” The older officer said, standing up with the younger. “If we need anything more, we’ll send for you.” 

Louis nodded and watched as the pair of officers left his home, went to their car, and pulled away down the road. He waited for a bit, watching in front of his house in case it was some sort of trick. Ten minutes later, the officers hadn’t come back. 

A grin broke out on his face. Then, an exhilarated laugh bubbled out of his mouth. Louis’ hands flew to his face as he slid his back down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, grinning widely. 

He was free. He was totally and completely free, and he’d won his freedom all by himself. Antoine was gone forever, and the cops were none the wiser. He wouldn’t get caught for his crime. When he went to bed that night, it would only hold him. No one would ever join him in it unless he invited them in. No one would ever take advantage of him again. 

Louis couldn’t bring himself to stop smiling. He wanted to dance around his living room and sing his own praises. He had gotten himself out of the Hell Antoine had pushed him into as a boy. He’d done it all on his own. He’d proven his strength to himself and he could be his own hero from then on. He’d never depend on anyone simply to see them drop the ball ever again. 

Sure, Mama was going to be sad for a while. Louis knew he ought to feel bad for her. After all, she was his mother. She’d given him everything and she was his favorite person in the world. Still, he couldn’t stop smiling. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy thanksgiving! These past few months have been long as hell, so this took forever to write

Fall faded into winter. Louis knew it wasn’t right, but he was glad to not have Antoine on his list of people he had to buy Christmas gifts for anymore. That man had been a waste of money, anyway. Mama seemed intent that Antione might be back for the holiday, and Louis didn’t have the heart to tell her what he knew she already knew as well. He’d let the woman live in delusion for as long as she wanted. 

After a few months of nothing, it had become evident to the both of them that the leftover money in the shared bank account would only last so long. Louis insisted on helping support his mother, who in turn insisted that she could handle herself, and started a sewing and alterations business from the comfort of the little house. Louis’s childhood room turned into a sewing and workspace, and the unnecessary furniture got sold to add a bit more padding to the budget. 

“Now, if you give me, say, ten dollars, I’ll sell you both the bed and the mattress. What do you say?” Louis asked the first man who’d answered the classified ad for the furniture. Frankly, he would have taken less for them both. He would have given the bed and mattress away for free, just so he’d never have to see them again. But that wouldn’t pay his mother’s bills. 

“Well, how old is the mattress? It looks a little stained.” The man asked, looking over the thing, both of their eyes going to the few small blood stains that had soaked through the sheets and onto the mattress. 

“Oh, it’s only about seven or eight years old, nine tops. Organic filling, of course, this isn’t the Titanic we’re running here. But I’m sure you’ll see it’s shipshape nonetheless.” 

The man cracked a smile at that. “When you say ‘organic filling’, do you mean -” 

“Good Southern cotton, yes sir. So, what do you say?” 

“It’s older, so I’ll need to replace it a few years down the line. How about seven dollars for it instead?”

Louis hummed and rubbed his chin with the side of his finger. “Make it eight and we’ll have a deal.” 

“I can do eight.” The man said, reaching over and shaking Louis’ hand. He handed over the money and Louis smiled as he slipped it into his pocket. 

“Wonderful doing business with you, good man. Now, let me help you bring them out to your Ford.” Louis hummed, clapping the other man on the shoulder and leading him into the house. 

He slipped the money to his mother wordlessly as they walked in and the man greeted her cordially. 

At 20 years old, Louis was starting to lose hope that puberty would grant him ample muscles. So, the solid wood bed frame was much heavier than he’d expected, even with another man helping with the other end. At the very least, the mattress was significantly lighter. He helped close the back of the pickup truck and patted the thing. 

“There you are, then. Thank you again, good man.” He hummed, shaking his hand once again. Once the truck had driven away, he joined his mother on the front porch of the house. 

Mama sighed and just shook her head. “You know you don’t need to do all this, Louis. Really, I’m not completely helpless.” 

“You’re my mother, it’s the least I could do,” Louis replied. “You know, you could get some more if you sold some of Antoine’s things.” 

“No,” Mama replied shortly, turning to head back inside. 

“Mama.” 

“I said no. Antoine is family, we don’t sell our family.”

“Mama, it’s been months. He left in the dead of night, and took nothing but what was on his back and in his pockets. The only one who’s touched the bank account since then has been you.” 

“We don’t know he’s dead. He could come back, yet.”

“Potentially, sure. But the likelihood is very low. If he isn’t dead, he clearly isn’t interested in anything we have to offer. He’s as good as dead to us now. Besides, I’m a grown man now, I can help you if you’d let me.” 

“I don’t want your money, ChouChou. I don’t want you to worry over me when you should be focusing on your own life. The time you waste worrying and fretting over me could be spent finding a wife and starting a family of your own.”

“How can I worry about other women when the most important woman to me is all alone here without anyone to support her?” 

Mama sighed and smiled warmly, reaching up to gently pinch his cheek. “You’re an angel, Lou. But, I need you to believe me when I say I’ll be fine. If you truly want to help me, then you’ll stop worrying so much about me and worry about yourself. Focus on finding someone to start a family with. I’ll handle things on my own here, and when I’m ready, I’ll consider marrying again.” 

Louis sighed through his nose but knew better than to argue any further. “Fine, okay. I’ll start taking the idea of marriage seriously.” 

“Thank you, darling. Of course, I’ll want to meet whoever you decide is a good fit.” Mama hummed, fixing his glasses for him. 

“Of course,” Louis replied, moving off to the kitchen. “Until then, you can at least let me cook for you.” 

“That’s fair enough, I suppose. You know what you’re doing?” Mama asked. 

“If I didn’t know what I was doing I would have starved by now.” 

Mama laughed and hovered around her son in the kitchen, but ultimately let him have control over dinner. 

Louis worked easily over the stove, only realizing he’d forgotten how much cayenne pepper his mother liked in her jambalaya. While he easily could have asked, that would mean having to ask for help. That was just about the last thing he was going to do while he had control of the kitchen. So, he eyeballed the amount he put in and grit his teeth when he realized it was actually quite a bit. Well, there was no going back now. Once the cayenne was thoroughly mixed in, he spooned some into a pair of bowls and brought them over to the dinner table to eat with his mother. 

“Fair warning, it’ll clear your sinuses.” he hummed as he handed his mother one of the bowls and settled down next to her. 

“Oh, dear.” She laughed. 

“I got a little bit carried away.” Louis laughed. 

The rest of the day was spent in his mother’s company, worrying over the woman who’d told him multiple times not to worry about her. The sun was setting on the city by the time he finally left after reassuring her multiple times that, yes, he had gotten plenty to eat. He really didn’t anymore.

He pushed a hand through his hair with a sigh when he was finally driving away from the house. He doubted he could really distract the woman much more and get her to forget the promise he’d made that he’d find a wife. If he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t interested in romance or marriage, or any of the things that came along with putting a ring on a young woman’s finger. 

At twenty years old, he knew he was still rather young to be worrying over his potential future as a husband and father, or his ability to fill either role properly. But he knew the older he got, the more people would be on his back about settling down, nagging him under the guise of pure-hearted worry. Plus, courting took time. And finding the right woman would take time, too. 

With a white mother and half-white, half-Jamaican father, he knew there were quite a few families who would rule him out based completely on the lack of purity in his blood, even in New Orleans. However, those same people liked to turn their noses up at any Irishman with even the milkiest skin the moment they learned that poor man’s heritage. Some people simply chose to keep their eyes screwed shut while the world continued to turn and change around them. Dealing with them at all would be a waste of time. 

Instead of driving straight home, he found his way down the streets to a little unassuming looking house on the edge of the city. He checked the number to make sure it was the right place. Someone at the radio station had mentioned a speakeasy in the place, and he could use a good drink before his hunt for a wife began. Besides, women came to speakeasies, too. A wife who could shoot whiskey seemed ideal. 

He parked his car next to another and slipped out. He followed the footprints in the dirt around to the back to an unassuming wooden door. He knocked twice, hoping he had the right place. He had some bathtub gin at home, but the stuff tasted so damn bad, and drinking alone was no fun at all. 

The door opened a crack just a moment later, and a young woman stood in the opening to block any view of the inside. She looked him up and down. 

“Password?” She asked. 

“Orangutan,” Louis answered. 

“Come on in.” She hummed, stepping aside and opening the door a bit wider. 

“Thank you,” Louis replied as he walked into the building and let her shut and latch the door behind him. 

“You can call me Tink.” The woman informed him. “Drinks are in that room down the hall. Across from, there is some gambling. If any of the girls here try to get you to take them upstairs, say no. We’re not running that sort of operation here. Oh! And if you hear sirens, am-scray.” 

“Got it. Thank you, dear.” Louis nodded before making his way into the house and glancing into the kitchen-turned-tavern, then into the gambling room.

Both of the rooms, along with a few other rooms on the main level, were rather crowded. There were more men than women in the place, and every girl seemed to have a small crowd of men around them. So, maybe looking for a wife in a speakeasy was going to be harder than he’d thought. At least he could get a drink or two before cutting his losses. 

He found his way to the little bar and ordered himself a whiskey. He was more than happy to just watch people. He wasn’t going to lower himself to the level of one of the desperate boys pawing at the girls in the hope to get any sort of crumb of attention. He did feel vaguely jealous of the girls, though. It would be so easy to just sit and look pretty and laugh at bad jokes while getting showered in love and attention while the men around them paid for each drink the lady wanted. 

“Louis?” He heard a soft voice ask, snapping him out of his own head. “Louis Lefebvre, isn’t it?” 

He turned to look over, finding a short young woman with short brown curls and brown eyes smiling up at him. She was dressed like all the other women in the speakeasy, in a dress that riskily ended at the mid-calf. When they sat down, anyone with prying eyes might be able to look down and see everything from the knee down. Louis wondered if the hemlines for men would get higher, too.

“I thought it was you! I’d know that face anywhere.” She said proudly. “It’s been so long! How’ve you been?” 

Louis found himself stuck. Quite frankly, he had no idea who this woman in front of him was. He hadn’t the slightest idea of how they knew each other. He was fairly certain he’d never met this woman before. At least, he didn’t remember ever meeting her. But he couldn’t just say he didn’t remember her. Instead, he smiled and decided to act like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Oh, hello. I’ve been quite well, thank you. Work is going wonderfully, and I recently got my own place. I like to think adulthood suits me well.” He boasted with a wide grin. 

“Oh, you’re lucky. If I were a man, I think I’d like freedom, too.” She hummed. “But I was born a girl. So, I’m stuck with my parents until I marry. I swear, they’re going to make me crazy.” 

“Well, maybe that’s for the best. If you go crazy, maybe they’ll ship you off to a loony bin, and you can escape them that way.” 

The woman laughed and just shook her head at the joke. “Oh, Lord. I’d rather work in a textile mill.” she hummed before staring up at him for a moment and then smiling even more. “You don’t recognize me at all, do you?” 

“Guilty as charged, miss. Sorry about that.” Louis admitted. 

“Don’t worry about it. Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.” 

“Deal. What’ll you have?” 

“What are you having?” 

“Whiskey.” Louis held his glass a bit higher. 

“Give me one of those, then.” 

Louis cocked an eyebrow at the decision but said nothing. 

“What? You don’t think I can handle it?” The woman asked, her arms going over her chest. 

“You’re shorter than my mother, I think. I’ve never known a small woman to go for whiskey.” Louis replied honestly, turning to the bartender nonetheless. 

“You’ve never known a small woman to go for whiskey until now.” She amended. 

“That’s fair enough.” Louis laughed. “You know, I still have no idea who you are.” 

“Ah, right.” She said as she kept close to his side. “I’ll give you a hint. We almost courted each other when we were children.” 

Louis’ attention snapped over to her at that, his eyes significantly wider. “Emma?” 

Emma grinned and reached around him to grab her glass of whiskey. “There you go.” 

“My, you look completely different.” He said in awe. 

“So do you. Well, not completely. But you grew into yourself if that makes any sense. You were right, adulthood does suit you.” Emma replied with a smile as she took the first sip of whiskey. 

Louis grinned at the compliment and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Well, thank you.”

“So, how has your courtship journey gone since then? Do you have a girl?” Emma asked. 

“Oh, nonexistent. The journey hasn’t left the station yet, no matter how many times Mama begs it to.” Louis replied honestly. “She’s starting to get frantic, I think. She really wants me married.” 

Emma grinned and laughed again. “Oh, does that ever sound familiar. My parents want me to get married more than anything. My father wants to run for mayor, and they think it makes him and the family look bad if I’m not married or spoken for. I swear, they must think I’m thirty years old or something.” 

Louis laughed happily at that. “Well, here’s to disappointing our parents,” he said, holding his glass out to her. She clinked hers against it and they both took a good swig of their liquor. 

“You know, maybe it was fate that I found you in here tonight.” Emma thought aloud. “We both have parents who are desperate for us to court someone and marry them. Why don’t we just court and marry each other? That way they’re all happy and we’re not stuck with some stuffy stranger or in some sort of marriage set-up for us.” 

“Courting each other worked so well last time.” Louis hummed. 

“People change, and it’s been quite a few years since then,” Emma replied. “Come on. Do you have any better ideas?” 

Louis thought it over. He was starting to understand that simply remaining single was probably never going to happen, no matter how much he wished otherwise. At least with Emma, he felt comfortable. 

“I suppose I don’t,” Louis admitted. “Alright, fine. You and I, then.” 

“You and I.” Emma nodded. “My parents don’t know I’m here, or unchaperoned.” 

“Where do they think you are?” 

“A dinner party with my friend Margaret.”

“We’ll tell them we met at the dinner party, then. It wouldn’t be becoming for them to know the truth.” 

Emma smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll tell them you requested to court me, and they’ll probably want to invite you over for lunch to see if you make the cut. It’s all posturing, though. I’ve turned away every other man, so having one that I don’t will be considered a miracle.” 

Louis nodded and took another drink of his whiskey as the woman next to him planned out the first steps to their future with each other. 


End file.
